perhaps it may be that nail in the wall getting stuck
or we don’t know what we don’t know might gradually deepen
when we look from this side
it’s just a nail sticking into the wall, but
when we see behind the wall
in the middle of the dark
inside time, several centuries pass
and I can’t touch the nail in empty space, quietly floating
when wind sinks into the wall, is the nail rocking
the dimness of empty space like the naked bough hiding the tree’s inner life?
I understand the nail at night gradually deepens
from this stuffed pocket I deliver nails
at any motel I know of
and in that high motel room I take off my wet body
and my body twists until, gently, crawling out my mouth
one red spider
I know why the nail at night secretly twists and bends
nobody really owns the wild beast they raise
until they learn to cry