in re new place

we, facing          (one) another

the sound          of her

      is almost		
between us:

          a foot of hair grown and lost

the skin of two summers

          so much rhythm          still crashing

          from the wars
never thought	day

and that stumbled

resplendent (f)light

could hinge how it did
prisms making purpose

of shattered shapes

memory greying in light
          hover text bubbles

          so it doesn’t need to be said:

didn’t want it like this

til          I need it like this

til entangle can unmake

leaves in red hair          dawn from veranda

          coal train nights

          so much

          it didn’t need	to be

enough

forever 		we count	


for the benefit of the other,

we should have warned

          but good evening

          come in

drawing

the shade          we pull down

the sun

          soft shadows

          swallow homes we’ll never live in

          backward,

          still blind.