Dara Cerv


Stuck in the colorful vise of a person’s energy for one
More second, I might burst into marbles
And roll off into the ether or
Under the sofa
When you shine a light on them
It looks like Saturn’s rings 
Are vacuum packed and folded inside 
No one prepares you for what it’s like
When someone’s energetic bell slips
Over you
Arrival into the left hemisphere of the brain
Feels like a pole slipped hard
One hundred feet into the earth
Logic like a flag waving the detriment of love
Hey if you’ve ever picked logic over love
Raise your hand
How are you so calm they ask
And peer into the metal sheath
Increasingly I operate more like a machine
Appeals to emotion are not screamingly effective
Thoughts neatly mapped like a planetary system
But what of the person who bells you
Well, each of your cells gets dunked
In a saturate memory that’s your own but
Not lived
Name the nine options
Keep adding one to infinity
Connections are secondary
This math problem keeps me


There is something called good country
There is also bad country
And G-d’s country
There is that play on the word: cuntry
Flex an eye muscle and the scenery pops
Open to reveal ovaries
Shaping most spaces
Once again I return to a feminine ritual
Collect flowers for the house
Pleasure is thought to be by nature
Produced along the birthing spectrum
I prefer the joke to be IN GOD’S CUNT—
Let some live in the lightness
But let some of us understand
The hard politics
Stiff but not invincible things
Stab at soft places
The shadows of certain actions
Are their indelible stains        
The mood disrupts the objects
On which it lands


In an attempt to understand a person's planetary scales
How Neptune clouds the ability to concretize thoughts
And deliver the message 
I knit a large-scale map of your natal chart out of a sweater
That has already begun to unravel
I hold it up after three thousand stitches and ask
What is it like for you to carry your person
Into the world each day sensing a difference in the thickness and
Moisture of the skins of others while sensing a difference in 
The sheen of your hair in comparison
I admire you
For bold foolishness I admire myself
Enough to sometimes keep score between us
Who sees weirder things in the low-flying plane
For you it is an omen of the shaky sociopolitical landscape
For me the low-flying plane dips families 
Toward each other and I see these families running to embrace
You see an expression of impossible love
We disconnect on every page of the same book and I drink
Your thoughts while mine rush over you like cold water
Your skin reacts against
I knit a map of the city in which we met
When certain animals encounter each other in the wild
Accounting for prior knowledge 
Of each others’ scents and other niceties
It is never a good scene
One attempts to lick clean the fur of the other and
The other rolls repeatedly in the dirt

"fill the above hangers with what follows", 2016, paper and paste