i hold your photograph
too far from
eyes
to make out our
expressions,
then paint on my own,
from a healthy
distance
to see us smile
again.
shadow work
dragging fingers
over strings
hoping something
tickles
where i’m
numb,
while humming notes
all wrong
to hear new
compositions come.
this sorrow’s but
the feather
over my eyes
catching a
breeze–
the dust kicked up
by wind
gusts
causing cathartic
sneeze.
working through
the hurting
while
questioning
what’s
just happened
to leave
us sweating
this long into
the night.
white as house held
in latex hands,
blue as the breath
spit from a
floor fan,
red as deep sky
as dead as these eyes..
black as ink
tainting green land.
inside
we writhe–
two sweaty
ropes
with needs
of their
own,
friction
burns
up and down
our fibers–
better than shiverin’
alone?
at a loaded
table
we tossed our
dice
but some love comes
at a price
i won’t pay
twice
motor’s whirring,
speech is
slurring
past the point
of hot,
gears are stripping,
steel is melting,
mind’s slowing
down..
but not.
watching you like
a movie
i’ve seen more
than once,
i could predict
your next
line
but why mess with
the timing,
hearing you like a
song bound to
my brain,
were i to sing your
next lyric,
would it chime
the same?
i’ll shine like
i need
to,
not fade when
i’m told
to..
shut up, as i’ve
spoken
much–
i only feel
when i’ve touched.
hands in the garden 
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