no agency for who you are
but who you say you are—

a “place” in “being”
a “numbered” “feeling”

for “how I feel”
brings this missive

of non-promise
for a rigged thing

to feel a why-type of inflection
in a science of detection—

as a day takes forgotten ways
to inform you, deleted thing

as a crisis brings a pattern
of swept feeling

for the ceiling, the crossbeam
the nailhead I’ve been studying

commits myself to existence
to convince to conceive another way