I listen to the sounds, in this room;
the house must be settling.
I smell me everywhere, I remember the first body.
            Finger insistent, upright; wanting to speak.
I hear something, perhaps horses, running outside.
I sketch with my nail. You sit beside me and watch.
            Weak stomach; dreaming of horses.
The room, the evening, drowns. I sleep.
Another body—it intervenes, watches me.
            My fingernails grow; they reach the ceiling.
            They break through and water gushes in, tons.
                                                          [Clothes everywhere; I don’t recognize them.]
I don’t want to know who’s watching the water fill the room.
            I hope he gets clean; otherwise drowns.
                                                                                          [Sounds inside and out.]
I look at the ceiling,
where my nails end. I dream a new body.
            I don’t know who it belongs to.
I listen to the sounds.

I sowed bodies, and now reap clothes.