I drag the boy along the shore
in a box, a boy-box, a not-box.
I pause to speech-draft us a word-ship,
a ship-box, a ship, and I try to leave
spaces for weather, we-weather. I leave
spaces that are high, highly visible for us
to move into as we grow culture
with our box-myth: a box can be
a word can be a ship can be
the blank that takes us to each other.
-Jennifer Kronovet
