written march 3, i think? dredged from email to self

please i am on the phone and you are on an island
of saying please as i say please we word please and
the sand is made of please i know because you hold
the phone up to the grains of sand and they ring please
to the microphone and my speaker sings
peals of please into my hair

please works its potential into my scalp

as if we had made a pact of please and seen it grow

becoming tactile and theraputic

i run please into the wall and visit cords at their root
they angle please into the miracle of electricity and rot
the foundation of your island is succulent please
and am looking at old postcards of please that you send
with the intention of making a war between my please
and yours and what will that do

i have a crab in my mouth scratching please into the backs
of my teeth and she bristles so that i spit and she's an angler
fish with the lantern and the terrifying teeth and i want to ask her
what it feels like to be and i do and she shakes her
lantern "no" and i wonder what happened to please
and she exits with a sharp clang

i am burying a phone in the sand as the squall lays down over my neck
i hear the visiting gulfstream and the assailant winds but they can't drown
the please that i bury under millions of grains of pleading sand
that ask me, individually, to name them and i name them all please
and i bruise my fingers imperceptibly with tenderness