Crossing cloth and wood were joined
but never two or none but two was what it led to.
They meet its gaze and thereby stopped
the mirroring stream.

Something uncertain and beautiful I command.
Just endless color and light shows on
their distant streets.
But then again it doesn’t and I don’t stop
and everything goes:
They are passed, all operation ceases
at the line’s turn. It darkens and on every artery, I prepare
a hand of power.
It always holds the distance.

More no more only ever the direction,
shifting the stars from their anchors into the blue.
The truth is I believe my eyes by this faltered sea.

The gray in every chamber
directs me. When the cut warps,
a battery runs out and
with a stroke, the distance always holds.

On the sun-barge, falling loud and heavy
the protector, another woman and I,
while clangor keeps on. Everything
is seen as awaited.
Pulses settle in line.
Life, death, I lack—
A cell is never just one and
I know‭,‬
I have studied with my heart‭.‬

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Juliette Gruner uses she/they pronouns.