There is a wooden church and we
have just dusted our way into a funeral
and we are trying to be sad for this corpse
but really we are sad for each other, only
we are not even sad. See you are smiling
like a cobweb, all draped and dangled, then
your hand is on my (bare) arm as though you
have never touched my skin before, which
then I realize you haven’t and there I am suddenly
shivering like a clock. Looking back on it now
I am realizing that at that point we should have
started to drive away but we stayed seated with
your hand on my arm and you grew much, much
older and I grew much, much younger. Think:
a parent. Think: a child. Think: a parent teaching
a child how to swim in a lake full of bees.