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Alone,
October, face in clouds lit by the moon

August:
Salt water down my throat
Choke
On wet heat at night...
Soft skin that’s been sundrenched

November, she writes:
“You became that for me,
Mixture of image memory”

Ribbon of sleep
Slips through my hand
Four I’ve hurt this year; am I who I am?

Not as frail as you think,
You’ll break me
Opaque and weak
You'll break me, we’ll break me

April I wrote you, only person I got back to
Opaque and weak
You’ll break me, we’ll break me

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