Moonling Cradles Her Face
in Psychosomatic Rabbits

Have you ever not been alone?
The geological object of my heart’s
transparency wrestles with this

monstrosity self-identification,
but no more than each subjective
tongue of humanity’s hive-mind

ice-creams the voltage harnessing
my juicy suitcase to soothe its collective
unsettling. To speak in unison

with the moon is only one way to dose
techno-capitalism into the visceral
industry of true pain. Science will see

violence in violins. Like when I unicycled
to the library to borrow the librarian’s
coat and tie for a job interview. He said

they only loaned books and movies,
and never to patrons wearing only
one shoe. So I pulled off my sneaker.

Consider the quantum poetic entanglement
of clouds, I said. He handed me his jacket
but said I’d have to find my own shirt and tie.