ALT from “Act Three. The Matter of One’s Flesh” 3. Aaron My flesh has swallowed an entire dream of heaven: I’ve got a dozen screws floating around my spine, casings & shells, mortar & construction nails holding nothing forever. For legs I wheel this chair. My body’s locked in the pitying gaze of strangers, family, in the moment he froze our fates together. I recall trying to rise slipping as if on ice, unseeing my eyes, my father’s voice screaming something—what was my name— but I could only see his mouth moving, the pain in his eyes. I could not feel a thing. Every day I try to stand again. Sometimes I’m filled with joy, sometimes I want to die. Myself devour. For his wish to be remembered. I’m raked with fire. —Philip Metres

ALT A green book with white and light green text is placed on a white fabric depicting dark green leaves.

ALT A page from England’s Green is held open. Out of focus in the background is a room with some objects like artwork and a guitar.