Right now is the sweet beginning
It hasn’t come in yet
It’s all descriptions of light, land,
branches, I’m oblivious to posture,
oblivious to I, oblivious as, one
at a time, the lines drop in
to change things. Loneliness doesn’t
scare me, it’s just stillness,
I need it like my spine, which is
connected to my hand, eventually,
which has to move, eventually
has to go somewhere.
Four hours where I listen to cars
pretend it’s the river
washes the chirps away if there are any
left. Forty-five minutes where
I sit with water up to my chest
and the sound washes from ear
to crown to somewhere even higher
and my hand moves only to scratch
and fumble. Drips on paper and
weakens it.
One day there will be a dark spot
in the distance, and we will all
have to squint before deciding
on its name. I bring my hand to
the right side of my throat, swallowing
the time I bargained for. I wish
I could say it better.
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