There’s a certain clarity in the breakdown:
to really know presence in one moment, is to drown.

These mistakes and this loss are a slipping and a falling,
but panicked stomachs in chests tune our ears to the calling:

Pieces of ourselves that we mourned to have lost, were a giving away:
now we’re shelters from the rain in Soho, and food for seagulls in the bay.

How we protest when we lose our things and our pride,
but lost too was every reason to not forgive (lies!)

Together now, my identity remerges in this task:
I will love you, through the fading of your mask.