Watching you run

Nothing much changes, the night
is longer, the sun is hamstrung,
I want this to be out of my hands.

I want the words that are near to you.

There is fruit that your fingers will lift
from a bowl. I would sing the psalms
of shadows after your reflected light has left.
I’m sorry, sad songs are the only ones I know.
Where the sky is tearing itself apart
and the feathers of night are bleeding to leave.

You are water.

You are the siren sown across
this desert. All my footsteps
circling against desire.
My heels hard against the
hoax of monuments, the
shortcuts of open tombs.





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