by Ziqr Peehu Chris Curry I When the jawbone stumbles into my dream, I shriek first and greet later. It doesn’t introduce itself — just leans its 2.8 million years against my bed frame till it’s acknowledged. I stare at it. It stares back, its sockets are empty & the silence is prolepsis. The jawbone gets annoyed. It calls itself orbit — (says 3bodyproblem — says solveit) but it’s a drunk stumbling through zero gravity, teeth foaming at the gums, a rabid dog chasing itself. I