what feverish
wounds wait
at this slippery
crossroad

how would
our scorched
hands hold
the days we
have lost

will we
write of rocks
raked by talons
until they cease
to be rocks

when earth
has hit sky
& returns
to be earth

at the feet
of shadows
that will never
again move
from their walls

my stomach
inverts in
yellow wheels
of revulsion

& i can already
see a puckered
hesitant mouth
in a white head

tremorous full
of excuses

time
needs
space

i've held this
last hour

watched day
curve into
oblivion

& blanket clouds
over evening

'til each thing
begins again
to ache to
disappear

in a distance
between he & me

which refuses
to contract or expand

his hands
occupy
& unhinge me

until i am
a door

to another
dark room
he can't quite
recall

& if he
dreams
of orchards

i'll be a tree
turned wild

in these
empty arms
of spring

but up
all night
i count his

chest in rises
& falls like

a total or
a new day
might equal

an answer

set sighs afloat
on each sleepy

exhale
don't tell

i could be
sea wind
unleashed
across his
horizons

or already
have been
& keep

spreading
too thin

my eyes hold
your hand

& hide it in
everything going
on everything

always goes on

your fingers
line my eyelid

search seconds
for other words

tremble & retreat
across an ocean
of unintent

familiar images
shuffle impatient

on a white
screen

carouseled
in endless

click rotate
click

a reassurance
of love

helps
like water's
existence

helps
parched roots
which can't

reach it