After the fire I heard your voice,
low and Midwestern: the syllable
bursts of erratic heat, hoarse
cadence musical, familiar.

I am a zoologist. Probably Jean Louis Rodolphe Agassiz, teleported from my comfortable office seat in a low grade office to the middle of a desert – I am a creature that is tired of seeing itself. Its eye opens only unto within. I am an intruder into its acts of self lust.