Dear dear
untie sorrow, an unspecified locus
to keep its remains.
To rest in this gyre.
For you, the distance.
If you leave, remember.
You’re the splinter in my foot.
Take it out,
but never reduce
the swelling.
My heart has spaces,
but pour warm water
between its cracks.
The slow burn to my bones,
A charred existence
now coated with molasses.
A sticky mending.
Move through it
a subterranean member–
Now quick and low waves grant me
the access needed to catch momentum.
If I’m moving, I'll remember.
