War Poem

There was no achievement
In | the airfield |. The airfield was
Our wedding. No, it was our house
Become our | plane |.

I collected the intensifiers of lightning
And | circled | them around me.
I named my seven sons
And then blew up their phones.

The baby has learned the language of desire
And what it means | to possess |. For outside
He says | my outside |. For down, he says
My down. Not inside, but outside. No. No.

| No |. The baby has learned the language of mirrors.
Self-reflected, re-embodied, and un-hinged.
What does | a baby | look like to a baby?
Hot and dark. Hot and dark.

Apple as | an apple | as an apple as a substance.
Say night night to this one.
Say night night to everyone.
Say goodbye to whoever is not in the room.