There is a small room
in an alley behind Neptune
where people store
complicated things
according to a wishful myth
the unwound mystery
looks out the window
seeing endless space untying
knots in chaos
now you know
as things move in space
comets smash the locks
if chaos knew the softness of lips
he would change his mind
as if holding back another day
would shorten an empty sentence
after spinning around
in an altered form
chasing his mangy tail
he’s shed his skin
and saw himself
does that mean
he’s been reborn
