the tethered axis of cold rain
like a clock perturbing
the heat.
the heavy sheets flocking our window.
a suture once the wind comes in.
but still notice this horizon
dipping out of practice
“it forgot to take the light down with it.”
brushed from my hair
and I don’t know yet
what’s familiar in this place
How skin when wet
sticks to history.
How I can be an open window.
and life are spent
once it’s all nebula and dry grass
how the wreck of time might soothe these blisters.
that heals in molecular ways.
“look at this place.
where the sun kisses you
like it kisses me right now.”
so i say it.