On the wicked turn, that sour slant angle
Of my face that slipped
Beyond the veil of hair: everything I am.

I fumble, my hands contort, the hinges
Of my fingers know no tandem
They work only to dissolve
The slip into conversation. But
Your gaze moved - just enough.

And all the buzzing hum, you heard too well
And however firm I steer the sea
I cannot stop the sinking
You rush within from the little crack
Perhaps without wanting to, perhaps
Even with pity, and then I am full

Bursting, heavy with intrusion
And all day long, my heart drums itself
And I can sense the strong Incoming,
Slinking through to inspect
What my stubby hands could not correct

Then the night, then the dawn,
And then day day day.
Then something lets loose and
The plank unravels from plank and
Then there is nothing to fear

However stark the spotlight of shame
How sweet it is to have sinned
How sweet to flirt with flaw
And to push it little, little. To push it
Vain and bare, past the edge, down
Through nothing and then

Firework: shards are glittery with grief
The wine stretches its limbs to the world
And the ground drinks it up.