Love,
stop filling the backs of
my eyes with your pressures
rubbing tiny orbs with
backlit diamond roughings,
your face is the roof of
an opened shrine.
      cut me with your writ
      slide the s through every word
      until the tips of your arms
      are dragging the grounds with
      a weight of water-colored birds.

I wished you a thorough
processing into particle,
small and simple to dismiss,
if only to save the last
dusting breath that kept us both
unshaken.