we were all gathered

around lathered in nervous sweats

not of uncleanliness but distress from

the site of this girl passed out on the floor

of the front porch or stage to the parked cars

and pedestrians with deranged hands politely pointing

elbows bent and necks curled to their chests

otters with oysters the meat

of gossip hidden within a hard wall of backs

their ‘is she okay’ rocks rapping like gunshots

and I thought about how odd it was that I’s

find their way into statements of them and you

their slender bodies sliding in with the same quiet

that renders letters silent