5. The antique pornographic film
projected across a kneeling man’s unclothed back, bodies doing what along his spine, stays nothing more than light that might well ceaselessly travel, swift and immaterial, when he rises and steps aside, but here someone’s sudden, outstretched palm lifts in front of the rays: two torsos splayed out on the fingers and sepia splashing the gallery walls.
(Lyrics copyright Aaron Anstett)