Thing


this is about time, and how to let it break against, sculpt, caress.
do not deny the shape once were. the limbs can still feel moving, ghosts in dreams.
slowly change. different surfaces in different light.
every day a kind of violence. every day an acceptance.
you

you broke me yesterday

and today i took you in my eyes
and made you whole.

and tomorrow
i will see you nothing.

pieces of myself yearn unreachable in the night.
a phone call to a machine in a distant room, playback.
time, the water tears away brittle,
smooths sharp,
my hollows defined.
time breaks the shore of bodies
to the form that years shaped
that is language, now, speaking
in the barreling baby hurting lungs
of ancient alien timeless meeting.

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Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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