the way it falls
collar bones cold
chills tearing at my spine
human necessity, memory
of touch long erased.

my mouth a portal,
sound only. lips,
retired rose petals
moments contracting
upon themselves

pointless gateway
rusted chains marking
an empty garden
ground turned and cursed
age rushing and darkening the permanence of regret.

hollow echos limbering up posts
legs shortened by time
expectation of movement between
shortsighted and extinct
wanderlust long extinguished

boggy eyes with water rims
too shallow to swim
far too empty to drown
salty bottomed and
largely misunderstood

curved ground between
here and there, and the earth
contracts. mind's eye drawing closed
and the rivulets pour, the faucet closed
only a dripping remains.