there is so much i want to remember, that i can’t,
about my other iterations.
there is so much i want to forget that i can’t,
because i carry it on my skin
and on the hair that raises on the back of my neck
when i least expect it.
there is so much to learn that contradicts itself,
and so much to unlearn
that leaves me without knowing.
without knowing as a verb.
without knowing as a noun.
without grammar that dictates hierarchical authorities
through my own tongue.
without a mother tongue that caresses me with forgotten songs
and sounds i never knew
and that even then,
are so familiar.
with dissonances between knowings
and not knowings.
with dissonances between wantings
with dissonances between retributions
asking what might be more radical:
subverting labels until making them arbitrary,
or embodying labels until they stop mattering.
moths, nocturnal butterflies
dazzled by that light
that promises what is intrinsic
in its own destruction.