for animal grit beneath our skin,
blood cells traveling
neither fiercely nor brightly
from entropy to entropy

for clenching calendar squares
in twitching fists,
a muddle of memories
and muscles
pulling our eyes down, in,
focus dwindling
to the last trickle between intention-crusted stones
where the final minnow,
the final water-skeeter
live out their final minutes

the pursuit of truth
disappears down allergous byways
the hope of listening
bogged down in the endocrine system

as we sit around this table,
and breathing beneath bay trees, attempting

to talk.