I heard a story    small as the maze on a walnut shell    the look of your face
in the season of distant thunder
Stand for the incoming storm
Are you alive in your tumble?

How your eyes work in hesitation    underwing breezes over a fallow field
lashes broken and blood on the lips there is a knot    in the galaxy
Just so   Just
Like that

How soon will bird-song unmoor you   tarnish your epicenter    squander
what’s left of your insides     love held up haunted
We pass through along beside
No need to announce your sorrow or sorry-ness

We whisper in puddles and breathe into puncture wounds    hover the distance
between ourselves and a minute
Sometimes people [farewell]
Still breathing   Still    Here



Image: photo by Melanie Weidmann on Unsplash, licensed under CC 2.0.

Gale Batchelder
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