a stale giant under a smoking
roof designs agony only
befitting of i. up in
another attic, the map
of the day dissolved. hope
in suffix, she cast another
loop round my spine. a
wound to forget to mend,
a few days, some potable
words. just carrying along.

red, she still carves into
my eyelids closed. a fool
plays gambit above the
ground. we were flanked
by frigid soil, and given
time the space bred in
our met gaze would surely
go to seed. but, questioning
whether we'd even make
a half-heatbeat through
this mess, i can't convince
myself you'd walk along
more'n a couple miles.
i'm becoming further away.
in an instant you could
catch me,
though. i can wait.

but not forever.