it cuts so close...

and even the air
brittles up
stale and waiting
clearing and oddly luminescent
curling in tiny intricate corinthian cues.

the chords strike a tiny tune
i listen to the cars
i don't look up
i continue
and the perfect frozen bell curve on the storm window
melts as the light passes
down through the pane.

ruminations and blatterbutter.

the stomach is all tied up
each silent moment
phone refusing to ring
forget the forgotten
emptying the trash, taking out the compost
sleeping and not sleeping
change the baby
repeat the scenes
edit the emotion
unable to breathe without losing hope
even if the world is with us on this one
the white continues
center stage
bright lights
hospital bills and slammed doors
private claustrophobia
circulation
cut
off