9/03
Dipping my toes into the silhouettes of winter…
Thinking on the sounds and shapes that make a silhouette of you.
What would it have looked like if we’d seen it through?
In mist shoving down hopes to see you, I sit at the edge of this bed and fiddle through the text and arguments that measure the distance between my body and yours.
Letters with the gravity of built up laundry loads…
Cleansing this grief in nearby geothermal pools
I exit left
wondering if I’m naked or nude.
Washing final spots off my back, purging woe off towards freedom like a runaway.
Washing skin and nervous system in freezing waves.