honeydunce

in elements.

there is the sweater in a closet
this is not worn
it is about the kept and keeping
not so much the wearing
some sleeves cannot wrap arms right
an article of attire,
never mentioned, not existing;

listen to certain songs and
practice eating shards of heart
the ones our mouths would rather talk to
cannot
work around the fissures, lip caught
process of plate, the tines of taking in now bent
on bruised bone;

how lovers of love dance
light in g, Am, street, wrists
better leave me here
in my element
receiving end of line to eye
pulling in the excess held in place
by one thigh, one instinct–
allowing hand to release one less comma
before i tell you what breaks my brain
what holds me still
what races rivers to chin
what walks me by the same place tonight
a similar collapse,
lung into lake
no sound/no hum/no splash