Late sunlight climbs up inside the crevices
and exposes. Wait.
A moment of ___________. Linger
somewhere someone may be listening.
For something to happen, to will oneself astray.
All those sideways streets and glances.
Where do they go? All those hours
of thinking about the hours
taking from us, where do they vanish—
skywards? Recycled in dreams
no one understands
or wants to wake from?
Pieces we have to reassemble, sew up the wounds,
our skirts, our lost borders, boundaries, if you prefer.
But, what shall we do tomorrow?
How have you forgotten?
Ah, yes, the Sea. The waves that crash back and take back everything.
Yes, even us.
We should peel back all the layers that will come undone
And sing them, paragraphs, un-shattered again, melodious,
whole-heartedly stolen, re-appended.