in the be-tween i am weak—
counting seconds,months in weight.
every shadow claims a space,
(i am drawn often in by
the taste of your breath,
where a touch your lips
fold eternity in my chest)
calls the same
whalesongs
and cicadas.
how a fool i’ve been
to think i would bury you
beneath the diaphany,
when all you do to me
is glow.