I. Zebra

after Elad Lassry
Ever since the glue you’d been
dipped in by the heel began
to peel, you’ve borne this
contradiction, yes and no
coexistent. The only sign

of inner agreement
is your tail: it flicks
in careless circles which,
in this instance, are larger
than the loop of 16mm film

which projects all your gestures
in parts as the camera pans
at a close zoom. It is as though
a few blind men are grasping at
the disparate natures of this flank

and snout and deliberating how
they can be reconciled, only
I am each of the blind men
over the brief progression
of frames.