flattened out slid against
the wax and dust
the splintered wooden floorboards
that wrap around the rough earth
this growing pool of oil
a small circle that widens but doesn't malform
the bow the arc the completely-taut string
i dont want to wait to only dwell
inside the wrinkled lines around your disappointed eyes
these days they're acres wide and miles long; the grand canyon
the last of the day's light in your constricting pupil
squeezes around me
a tourniquet around my arm; a plastic ring around your dinner napkin;
the end of a string at the end of a floating balloon
shut me out the specs of dust that form some transient spectre
one day you'll learn too that
i've never been particularly kind
nor have i done anything particularly well