I stretched out my legs before me,
ready to bury my dead bodies,
when my boss invited me to his office
and made me an immoral offer.
He pleaded with me with a blackface
and with eyes tinier than the mustard seed,
that he would appreciate my help
were I prepared to offer it to him.
He would be grateful if I killed myself;
so calm and gentle like lilac was he
when he laid down a body-worn camera on the table
and asked me to drive it wherever I went.
I carried it with me like a broken arm,
and watched it flow through my body,
the world and the wind unite pleased,
to watch my misery musing about.
In the convoluted pictures of my body camera
I watched the gathering of the evening maggots,
on the strained pews of the oak trees,
like a butterfly dancing without memory.
And a view flashed across my faltering face,
a pair of cicadas perched on the slope of a tree;
an eaglet dropped on the pathway and rose,
seven children wore masks and gloves at night.
Open a door as another seven children screamed in the room,
clutching door handles and shouting at each other;
something moved beside them, like a creepy grasshopper
pacing about with iron wings and long beaks.
But before them, the cross had dangled,
distended from the sky like a shower of daggers;
five children with black and blue makeup
followed it to where the star fastened to the clouds.
I decided to drive myself to the edge of eternity,
where bluebirds rattled like peonies on boughs
and the horror of the selfie glinted in the distance,
as I dissipated, no, disappeared with broken images.
Wherever I travelled with the body camera,
My chi followed me like a speaking navigator;
And a shadow rose under my clothes,
That urged me in the morning and evening to be safe.
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