How clean
the thousand surfaces
          RVs and
orange mesas
                       emerge each morning
rows of privet
clipped and swept

a linen blouse uncreased beneath
the steaming iron

again and again
the world is rinsed
to a scintillant mesh

And still
             the faces
gush from arrival gates
throbbing with this
bare imperative

to populate
the shivering expanse
this drive

of the body itself
to slice a space

 out of the aggregate
and hold it

at whatever cost of
blood    semen    money

spit  end

Reprinted with the permission of the University of Chicago Press