Against Enclosure

by Bradley Trumpfheller

Bradley Trumpfheller

For I through the law am dead to the law
–Galatians 2:19

Six. Six wedding dresses arranged in sequence.
I sometimes have a body. Nevermind.

So I’ve seen enough chronology, enough stars slipped
Through cloud. Six dresses. Six sisters. Secret spurs
Under the nettles. Under the sap was a sapless word.

Follow, follow. Needles at the edge of me, asleep

A clearing Asleep’d and labored in that room.

Lighly gathers in the recesses. The declension to parts.

Like chopping parsley, picking thyme. A softer falling off.

Distance of a pill to tongue, the stalactite tar.
Say falled. Say the apricot the lamb.

Theapric. Otthela mb. Mb. They were sisters. And falling.

Lace along the barricades, the wallwives, the day
Sweats. The dress is formed has forms. I, on

the other hand. & sixly gathers the nettle & saps

Fuck the police is what I mean. A symmetry
Of lace laid out on the floor like a bridge. Abridged.

Hands in the middle now. Bucked to the floorboards.
O the crossdressed hours O the faggot’d

Stains How saint
was a past life then How armed our ceremony now

I say a room here The room heres Its sound
Echoes Like what Like having been exterior
Once to softness & bent like a wheel back toward it

Last updated October 12, 2022