i make
you into other with
my words. into lost
ink drip-drip-
drip into wooden
splinter or cement
wall you cannot hear
me.
into an ocean i am
one one side of it and i thought i
felt you across the basin writing me a
letter but you have
swallowed the other
shore. is it better to feel you
as ink splinter cement the
void of a destination disappeared or
as what you
are?
my sun, you haven’t
called me
back.