More: A Cento

                                                         Please,
light, make a sound. You wrote let me

collapse. My poem was in that first revelation,

like the troubled drink they
make us remember
what never happened to us.

Each day I think this will be the last

A fear comes with it
to the world, a cry

I wasn't sure how to pray for the dead

Our worthless offerings—

the way we leave ourselves
in others,

There should be a carnival
Of all the sorrows

There must be more
to describe such cleaving.




[Source texts: Katie Marya, Lena Khalaf Tuffaha,
Evie Shockley, Jennifer Chang, Todd Davis, 
Allison Cobb, Adam Zagajewski, Marianne 
Boruch, Nathalie Handal, Ardengo Soffici, Julia 
Kolchinsky Dasbach]