by Emma Stout
You think that knowing
the velocity of the earth
will stop it from spinning.
And so, you write the formula
in your head
While hacking at the edges
While watching their heads
lift back a little too far
You hack and
you hack until
the knife is slippery with juice
Until even Orion notices
you’re not hacking
To find the center
To release the pressure
They stop laughing
when the spritz erupts
In a stunned silence,
they ignore the carnage
The bloodied skin.
They lift their arms in unison
Welcoming the mortal mess of earth
into their slow embrace
The bloodied skin
Communion of the Coconut
Future Histories 