(Bodies
at the bottom for years
turned shell
invaded by gold
by the
still
well
every cell
charged with a sweet that
charges changes
a welling
sweet a drowning
well
and
good
but not well)
And
would have been travelling
upwards still were
it not for you Being here
to hear them emerge
Sick, but are you
sick enough yet
to die in public on
the cement
Because it was
attention
the
curl of their bodies around
the flower and the
care of that
gesture
Work: the sweetness
of work and the uselessness
ants
begin to moil
and the bright money dust
squirts and tosses
on corn tassels
Neonicotinoid,
the
colorless color
Are
the bodies in the
jars or are they bulbously magnified
from behind
pulled through
the
poisonous brine by vision
only
While you see them in the jar they are in the jar and held by it and by you
but not only the objects, object you yourself are magnified
out the other side
and the cupboards and the shelves
see you and
they possess you in
their seeing
and your body turns
in the golden smear
and your own voice moves
too slowly through thickness
A voice parting
honey makes the
honey’s surface dance
bubbling gargling chopping
retching shuddering the surface
of honey
dances
The bodies died long ago
now it is your turn
did you think your own attention
would be different
bending over flowers open mouthed taking sweets