Windows and Doors Are Open in a New Kind of Science

The spinal cord is a stack of images
series that wires out and heats.

Thermal goggles reveal
where the family was, some red
lines tracing back for miles.

My sister is warm. My brother
is warm. They've made
intricate shapes in the TV room,
left accidental sequences of light.

I can now simulate my brother
or sister, given right conditions.
One TV. One mezuzah, one pair
of glasses and a front tooth.

I can now rally the head
of my father, closed off from me,
into a tier of signals that overlay home.