ALL NIGHTER MADE ME DO IT I SWEAR

What do you got—poetry? Is it the space between a woman’s thighs
that changes shape all the time? Is that—poetry? The space between words
where God and the light are let in? –Poetry? What about the air in a boat’s
hold, the pockets on a shroud, are they—poetry? The little arch between
Baucis & Philemon the pears hung into—poetry? The cup in the palms
of interlocking hands—poetry? The wind that drowns language
and encounters the skin instead—poetry?