True, It’s Not What You Think
Each oaken drawer
each cloven, shaggy hoof
each soft exploration
of the palm
Goat beard
and dove’s blood ink
patchouli and pepper
cross my palm
Dust to dust
One spiky needle
one vial of reagent
raffia idols
dracaena resin incense
Candles shaped like gods—
They’ve made it
just like home here
breathable atmosphere
and just the right tincture
of gravity