Spinning low on air currents, held by their weight, kept from leaving, are all the words you spoke to me,
Buoyed breaths mist into clouds in cold so sharp it elbows through my lungs,
Hours are dust I beat from the carpets to keep from thinking of your hair knotted in my fingers, the white cylinder of your neck cradled against my shoulder,
How many days and nights have thrown their wings over the places we were together?
Now spirits sift through the paper pulp houses we left behind, chopping onions, chipping plates, you and I are not even hard water, slowly knocking through the pipes, we are a non entity,
Age peers through the dark grates with cobalt eyes, dogs howl in my veins, sun shadows drape my latticework skin in widow's veil,
Tapered threads where you were joined to me, waving in the seafoam languidly