There was a thing that happened once and now
over and over and never again
the same, a struggle between word
and definition: a boxing.
The shot lingers as cells expand or contract.
It’s hard to tell what’s cell or film grain.
There is never a clear shot.
There is no more intention.
Right now someone is searching
for “porn” on Google, that still holds true.
If the body moves beneath another
the shot that lingers on “big hairy pussy” is the axis.
Woman fucked over
and over even after she and everyone dies
the screen does not change
but the language to define it:
the cumshot is just cells moving
beneath a glass slide.
Someone searches for “nearest hospitals”
and another “obituaries.”
The fantasy of the internet’s
permanence doesn’t negate its permanence to anyone
who dies before the internet does.
Are the cells even moving or is it the camera?
Everything seems phallic when
you think a phallus is a straight line.
This attribution of cock to anything
remotely straight out from the body, language
deciding the how and why
of a particular woman arrested
for 3D printing a replica of her own vagina:
ok to have but not to hold.