Poet Wrestling with the Possibility She’s Living in a Simulation {Inside a Simulation}

 
Consider this a death & listen. In the showers we strip naked

                         until there’s zero. Gravity. & no stress. But
                         its jaws. Are straining. Our necks. That

                                    bloodsucking. Alien. We can’t.
                                    See. Buffering. You’re lying. On
                                    top. Coming off. Our leash.

Mount. Moving. Neither of us. Can prove. A chance. Of relief. Run. Blood.
Thick. Boom. Bunnies. Extreme. Raging on the flame. As flames. Through

                        trees. Planets. Boreworms. Rings. How are there so few left as there are. So
                        many. I’m counting. High Scores. Unbuttoning. & turning. My extra lives. 
                        Into yours. Into a number taken. At a deli. Slicing off. An extra hour. That
               loses.
                        Its honey. Glazed. Rabbit. Meat moves in on me. With sloping axe. & forest
                        heat.

                                   Turns on me. Glassy

                                               eyes of smoked herring. Buckles the knees. Let’s get real about
                                               this. Real is a disease. I left hours ago. A rabid animal is not so
                                               bold. As a force with bones to grind. & diseases that hide. In
                                               brains. Stuffed. & fur-lined. Could be. Hex or. Hatbox. Real is
                                               taking a single train. Out of service. Out of control. The inferno

is really. A dot-matrix or dial-up. That exploded. Long ago.
We jeer at those. Still holding on. To joy. Stick & control. Extinct.
& floppy. Eared-ones that still live & lean into. Ray tube. Ray
guns. & neck cradling a call. We think. We aren’t. Cassettes.

           Loading. Long, long ago. Our legends. Never shone. But trickled
           off. Zero. Ticked. Against. A leg. Like a death. Sentence. Began
           in the middle. You were saying — I love you — More than. Just as.
           Falling. Low-res. Do you wish to save. Your progress. What miracle.

You snapped. Hard. At my neck. Pixelated. Lock. Screen. Our clothes
wet as skunned. Animals. & dripping. Will leave. No off. Spring.
Still. In my ear. Hold. God. God Yes. Somewhere this is happening

                                    without intent or making veins.
                                    Of tails. Somewhere unnamed
                                    & most incapable. Of dying.

                                    Somewhere. Never. Somatic. Only.
                                    Heat. & Edges. Wetter. Somewhere.

                                    Gravity is a grave. That will win. Its. Hunting.