These fragments I offer
at times coalesce but they
are defined by the spaces
between their lines.
Short and serpentine,
they gently prod your subconcious,
I want to make you comfortable,
but feel the silence.
Please do not interrupt
my breathing or break the
momentum of fragile hands
on your neck and shoulders.
My hair is a rope ladder we
climb down into a dream-mind
of iteration where words are
food and wine.
art by Sarah Riches
