Must/Never by Matt Dennison

Oh-oh, the electricity is bending my face again,
trying to gather at
one point, relieve its ache in one valley of
sparking sweat. I must
open my eyes very wide, force it back and
away. Or…  Yes! I will
open my mouth, stretch the muscles and
squeeze it, keep it running all
over and under my head, my skin. It must
forever run beneath
my fat, my insulation, must maintain its
distance, never make
contact but maintain equal separation at all
times, never know of
its neighbor, never start to feel warm under any
particular spot
along the way, never raise the temperature of
my forehead, never
gather in my eyes, never form my mouth—must
be satisfied with
DANCE—tippy-toe no-go nowhere into any of
the valleys or folds
of my face. Must remain submerged, mindless,
open. For if it does
not do these things flames will laugh at me.

***

Matt Dennison is the author of Kind Surgery, from Urtica Press (Fr.) and Waiting for Better, from Main Street Rag Press. His work has appeared in Verse Daily, Rattle, Bayou Magazine, Redivider and Cider Press Review, among others. He has also made short films with Michael Dickes, Swoon, Marie Craven and Jutta Pryor.