I wish I knew
what spell what word
to make the out and the in
glow together once again.

To draw your eye to the ribbons
moving across the water,
over the blur of the stillness
of rock bottom.

To push, to turn,
to click, to line,
to speak, to hang,
to give like the curve of a circle
leaves us in the bank, naked.

This curse of ours is serial.

Now,
there is a pearl on the face of your shadow
you can leave behind,
leave with a charcoal smile.

Labels: artform