In a shrill corner
with overcast clouds dully wasting the day
for contemplation washes in brackish waves
flood mouth and eyes
I tell you but
no better words hover lazily
like dust caught in light
In the shrill corner
held with fierce intensity,
the best way small palms can clench.
you were some treasure I'd finally found
which might slip
from my pockets, of threadbare fabric
burying between the thistle and trash
by the sidewalks' path
by my own oversight
you make a promise
I can’t swim to the bottom
for fear of what truth might look like.
Consumed without discretion.
without abatement.
smoke and ashes will settle
into bloodstream and bone
leaving fossil traces
If one day you want to slip between the fibers
to be among something new
I will understand
let you pass
with fists clenched.
around their flesh
I will make a promise.