Excerpt from ATOPIA

Sandra Simonds

“Mr. Watson—come here—I want
to see you.” The harmonics of
Hello. Hi. Ahoy. Static electricity
when you rip apart two bodies.
Troops sent
to the border. I want to see
you too but I’m stranded inside
the engulfment of my eye, which is,
in itself, a kind of dying rhyme
or an embankment. Turned on
Democracy Now while at kids’ violin
lessons. More troops sent
to the border. I live in a swamp. You live inside
a ring of dry mountains. The Can Can
from the lesson, fascism closing into an elegy.
Bolsonaro, “We’ll dig graves.”