Allyson Paty
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By what grace
can two men stand
in equal stillness
while each minute
settles like exhaust
when it rises
and drifts
to the edge
of the city.
There is the man
who musters
his snake limbs.
There are the stones
that he shakes
against his chest.
Then you, Raimund.
On what nerve
do you undress
for a crowd.
And with what
can you lie
while you wait
for Snake Limbs
to place his stones
along each ridge
of your spine
as though parting
his child’s hair.
An exchange
between skin
and stone.
Between city
and the minutes
that build it.
Distance
between man
and man
and how
without deed or bond
he measures his body
against the ground
where he lays it.
Allyson Paty was raised in New York City, where she continues to live. Her poems have appeared in the publications Tin House, Boxcar Poetry Review, and Low Log, among others. Her collaborations with Danniel Schoonebeek can be found on The Awl and Underwater New York.