A humming bird treads an invisible thread
researching the leafless ground below;
a dissertation on silence.
You send balloons up,
haemoglobin bubbles in the sky
dispersing sudden thoughts like Apollo’s limbs –
maybe you do not want to be alone now,
(after that first fatal wish)
wait for the card to be returned; Wish you were here.
The weather is nuclear:
everything yellow like pickled fruit
or temporal grey; the complexion cadaver’s wear
You know that if you died, you would leave no ripple,
a skimming stone succumbing to gravity’s symmetry.
Days dissolve into weeks, months,
old conversations make your teeth chatter to themselves
your stomach the only reply for a hundred miles.