I haven't looked up
from my phone
since 2018.
I want to live looking up,
looking at you,
like a donkey in Brooklyn,
like a bear, hunting,
like an ant, considering the sky.
something's wrong
with my eyes, anyway;
they are sinking, dulling.
my body tells me
to keep dancing,
but it doesn't
give me the weapons
or the wind instruments.
the field's ears
aren't ringing,
but my head is humming;
when do I break like an old teacup?
I will try
to look up more,
and stand up straight,
like a fang-sharp exclamation mark.