I could impose on you,
Gently.
Taking a moment of your time
In my hands,
I would expose myself
As being heavy water.
Sloshing goodly on the manners,
Taking gulps of air and wine
To gather courage.
I use the moment in my hands,
Knead it like putty,
Tease out feet and head,
Touch the neck
I think of on the bus,
The hair I smell-
Imaginary.
The constant cook,
The eternal host
To a microcosm of fear
That rustles with life
And turns purple berries
To a slow win.
Loss is comfortable
Cigarettes yellow my fingers
On this Monday afternoon,
So clear and cold.
I know that I am okay
But feel readymade and dismissed.
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