keep pushing on ropes .   instead of untying our tongues
keep touching .   our sleeves to the table
like accidents in waiting
like breath on a bad neck  .i fight to remember     the touch of grass
i keep down
it's dust. it's talking behind the school yard
it is.
sunn beating down

the split door
glazy
doe-eyed
as a []



standing on the train, no hand holds

zip ofthe doorline oppening like leggy
flow like salt and diamonds chiming intercom
chinese bell

The spermicide in your voice
The sink drain spinning
     .After much coaxing


The hair clumps climbing in bromine drips

As the acid burnt label’s yellowing edge
Waits for  further  corrosion  in the cabinet

As we seek to photosynthesize.  Into greater     limbs reaching

We shed the jitters

Humble before the promise of our own smallness

We feel the growth in our bones.

Thin.

Not yet as a door.

Not as an ear.

Not yet as a scar.

Not yet as a shadow.

Not yet as a self.

Yet.

Yet.

The ebbing

Of your eager look

As we roll our eyes,

And are no longer noticed by each other’s fingertips.

And no matter how hard it comes down,
It never comes close.
Then, summer meant something other than sweating.
Then, we ran the abandoned shoppingcarts through pothole oceans on the side street behind the mall.
Later, she changed out of the wet clothes and came out pantsless in the oversized Sweatshirt that would define **** forever.


(With damp hair still clinging to the back of her neck)


And if all the sad anime teach us anything : It’s that when things change, they can never go back

The pen is mightier than the sword.

Yet, we find that the ink on the paycheck is mightier, still.

Is for everything to bother you.

A grief
To
Last

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