I heard a story small as the maze on a walnut shell the look of your face
in the season of distant thunder
Stand for the incoming storm
Are you alive in your tumble?
How your eyes work in hesitation underwing breezes over a fallow field
lashes broken and blood on the lips there is a knot in the galaxy
Just so Just
Like that
How soon will bird-song unmoor you tarnish your epicenter squander
what’s left of your insides love held up haunted
We pass through along beside
No need to announce your sorrow or sorry-ness
We whisper in puddles and breathe into puncture wounds hover the distance
between ourselves and a minute
Sometimes people [farewell]
Still breathing Still Here
Image: photo by Melanie Weidmann on Unsplash, licensed under CC 2.0.
