The amount of Vaseline is frightening

femur

finger

skin

to escape

this skin

emerge processed

sludge to be sprinkled

upon the fields

Our homes are becoming fields

The loose scaffolding of rock

woven by shrubbery

produced an echo

of my voice:

“So, what were the best years of your life?”

“Sweetie, every decade has a charm

the 30s are…

something to look forward to,”

she provided.

“Why?” questioned my friend

my attention already drifted

to tracking

the nearing gorge

At low tide

I wanted you,

and after our falling out,

I went to the woods

to seek solace under a full moon

gashed my feet upon the open earth

as I wandered uninhibited

where we belonged entangled

but we never did stand together

Ash upon my plate

every sip becoming more

frequent

till a hand misplaced

chipped the porcelain

from its cracks

blues emerged

from morning tea

gone rotten

When I slip into a world already made without

justification for what I make of who I am,

will you be standing near?