time drags provincial
dust motes in the air dance sunlit songs
aeons pass
in the gaps between
your words
in the gaps between
ourselves
hidden in the couch
change
consequential
for which
calloused fingers dig
unable to melt
in a moment of content
they must search for the prize
and pull apart the peace
piece by piece
not even waiting for the end of the song
No comments:
Post a Comment