DESERTION, OR SHE WHO MISPLACES
AFFECTION UPON WHICH IS MEANEST

The Remnant never watches
the others, doesn’t keep step
with the others, wouldn’t try to
do what the others do, what
all the others do. Still how does
the one named Remnant defy
the grievous warring? The Remnant
moves inwards leaves supplies always
feeding off of the others, homes as
rubble exploded and unexploded
bombs, tube fed transfer data process
spells her. The one named Remnant
makes a citizen arrest, calls it
Sagittarius and spits in the tracks.
Sufficient cure of herself, merry
remainder, mirthless wit.

The Remnant is fur lined
and silver veined. She likes
to shit in front of the others
daily. Belonging defined by them
of them. She is the offspring of
wolf and sheep—dreaming together,
shaded bodily. She is unemployed
negatively, sleep walking, of no
use apparently, pitiless doll, de-
throned cankered embroidery, peeling
away at secrets. She invites her
disarticulation: phrase, word,
sentence, recombined endlessly
anagrams of dollhood. The Remnant
is the other’s violent stubborn
solution, her intimate strife
as in between animals, in
another future pressing together.

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