On the warm tar
The softened asphalt
An imprint of me
Hips the deepest
Then the shoulders
Then the head
My body
Intended as a mould
A skin like home
If you were to unhook
The muscles from my bones
You would be left
With something dignified:
A vaguely resembled being
But the comforting stack
I’d been faithful to
No longer rhymes with me
The dough still wet
When I left the tin
Sweet crumbs
Mixed with the glaze
Once a river
Now rain
The empty space
Between the frames
A treasure box with riddles
Candles clicking
Seconds away
An overflowing of the edge
Sets a flood in motion
Memories of a
Footprint in the sand
A trembling cloud
Of whispersounds
With the confidence
That simple depth
Would follow a red thread
I understand that pain
Also battles
For the space
Surrounding the heart