we collect kinetic energy in buckets.
my love for you is a socket wrench.
entrenched views pull us mireward.
turning your tired eyes toward truth
the blue accidents of favor slip into
a fever wound. all regret and no play today.
it’s the way we’ve whitewashed the passage
toward presence, the way we’ve incensed
the skies, the way lies catch up after a while,
sniff us out in our hiding place, and sidle up
close to breathe awkwardly in our ears.
what fear is gathering itself in my gut?
i can’t move close to you without getting closer,
nor loosen myself without losing myself.