Bad Math

I divide my time between the New
York in my mind and a cow-
sprouted field, divide my right
ear from my left, though the left
receives god-like frequencies only
my poodle can hear. I divide my
liver from my brain when I swill
wine and smoke. Divide my sunny
disposition from the sun it never
owned. Divide my body from
my bed, home from my home,
the Bronx from Czechoslovakia,
carbon monoxide from
shadow. Family divided
by flames (murder, murmur,
mum). I divide my father
from being dead when
he visits in dreams. Divide
night from night, each scarlet
second festering. I zero
in on the smallest breath
inside the blown explosion
of sunrise. Golden bolts
dividing my bowed head.