It was all about objects, their objections
expressed through a certain solidity.
 
My house for example still moves 
through me, moves me. 
When I tried to reverse the process 
I kept dropping things, kept finding myself
in the basement.
 
Windows became more than
usually problematic.
I wanted to break them 
which didn’t work, though for awhile
 
I had more success with the lake.
 
The phone worked for a long time 
though when I answered
often nobody was there.
 
Bats crashed into me at night,
but then didn’t anymore.
 
The rings vanished from my hand,
the pond.
 
I stopped feeling the wind.
 
One day the closets were empty.
 
Another day the mirrors were.