The mineral in me
loves a century, a drip
to taper down
walls caked in niter,
in methadone.

On a wing, made boom
from grinding and pestle,
you used to know my shape
by the sounds you'd make.

The drip in me makes a pool
seem natural, the loss
and dispersal, the single ripple.

I follow the edge of the lake,
step from my clothes,
swim till I'm in knots
and speak anchor.

On a whim I circle,
bob a pink neck,
shuffle into carrion
I used to believe in.

__

"Out of Body's Your Matter of Opinion" is part of a longer manuscript of poems with titles that contain variations of the phrase "__________ is your matter of opinion." It was inspired by a trip to [the salt mine museum] in Hutchinson, Kansas where many classic films are stored due to the stable temperature and humidity. In particular, this poem was inspired by the part of the tour where you're 600 feet below the surface of the earth, miles away from the only elevator, and they turn out all the lights.