When you are left
severed sharp cuts
no blade
But the lance of words
Blindfolded
Marco.
Polo.
You never saw me.
Polo.
You never saw me.
I never found you.
When you look through
and through.
And return to yourself
sitting on the floor,
a child in a bucket
who won’t turn off the hose.
The sun is hitting your face.
A former self
Now I'm waiting beside her
with a towel
to hold her close until she is warm again.
