Jane Gibian: gesture

suspended inside someone's life:
all day, fleets of curdled white clouds
shuffle across the sky & some fragile

thing held in you untwists deftly
to follow the body's gestures; unthinking,
stumbling through the pretence

of fast-capitalism: there are no words
to describe it yet there are so many;
your heart aches with the awkward

three-dimensional shape of them:
in a time of incoherence the untwisting
in your throat strangles any clear

word that might rise like a plea
for some kind of salvation,
in which you don't even believe