are we making niches
where there weren't any?
digging space in the clay
and shale
to burn a little warmth into our lives
and live there

the cigarette was wet by our fingers
and the whiskey spilled in the tub
as the we talked about the aesthetic
of cold stars
and the skunk we saw the night before
came again to eat the cat food

laughing over insights
skirting the edge of doom
and falling into deep silence
so as not to
headlong
obliteration