The Disappearing Movement Poem by Sarah Vap

sorry, and more sorry— the loyalty
we have to experience.
Our inclination for resolving,

minutely: wrapping,
white paper ladle, the cow's horns cut off
to disentangle it.

Your body has never felt exactly
the way it is feeling now: accidental, historical.
And vice-versa. That we're so competent,

hopeless, that's important.
That we're so absurdly
important. The binocular
gaping. The mosquito making
a ‘bun' sound.