I am what is material and can be pulled

silver coated masks descend, frozen ammonia materializes as
dirt and grass. still lips tilt to smile, bodies roll down
concave spaces. my own body is a concave space,

and in one bundle, i am caressed. awareness builds a
barrier, some impenetrable area to crash
and collide, make starbursts rushing

to the other side, because i insist i belong to condensed
methane and ice, and in my dark place, blue storms
rage, far as i can grasp—material warped,

molded, merged, wrapped like a burrito made of
universe. still i’m enchanted by the
perfect parabolas of our falls,
advancing whether to rock or
sand or dust.