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.
