1
We call it action,
this side of a wall,
mouths full of station-rain,
day-colored time.
Language rates turning
the pause into a symbol.
Misshapen fruit used as a game,
kicked where it lay for distance.
Like one more noise.
Even less, we join others
in the repeating house
and stack our moderation,
the rage we wait for
already censored by intent.
Paul Wasserman is an MA student at Goldsmiths in Comparative Literary Studies.