You haven't looked back for weeks.
As though you've forgotten how
Your life lines are straining through my palms
Up, you're reaching, pupils fixed on Pluto

I watch your hands bite
To a hold out of their reach.
Your hungry fingers
With their goal set to the clouds.

You chalk your grip
And the white dust trickles-
Spirals though the space between us
And lands on my sweater.

I haven't dotted your mind
Or crossed your dreams
Though
- the rope hooked to your stomach
Dangles in my fists.