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holding together only themselves
and the memories of the skins and floors they used to touch.
they lie spread out like fingers outstretched and curled, all untangled
around the edges and beneath the door frames, dry and sifting
merging with the dust surrounding. crawling towards the creeping every-
where
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look left, look right. Look right again.
Jump and spread your arms. Close your eyes
and try not to imagine what you'll see,
try not to feel the kiss of the black river.
Think of pancakes and butter. A little syrup
and a homemade yogurt. Think about that.
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take itself too seriously
like letting the needle sink too deeply.
These fluids were meant to run over your skin and your tongue,
not to penetrate your veins and and the guarded weakness of the heart.
Let the waters wash over like the torrent beneath the fall,
don't let a single drop into
you.
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take turns to wake me up off the floor
and let me admire and appreciate this quiet morning,
quietly won.
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reaching out for
and holding close to
your heart and mine.
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