Disb / Elie / f

I don’t believe in the     stars.          They

are far scatt                 ere  d

and t o o unorganiz     e    e eee    d

for my liking.

I pray that they are bundled. I pray that

they are folded                       perfectly

                                              apart

like black piano           sticks  to explore

with my finger.

I pray they know atranslateablelangua

ge.

            If

they shout,

I will jump                           fall       and die.

            If

they whisper,

I will crisp.

It’s a lose-lose fore us bothe:      I lose my life.

                                                They, their

audience.

It’s best if we continue administering the silent

treatment to each other —

but even that is a fatal                   B+.