I wouldn’t ask this of you
to cut off the incandescent glow
of your eyes like embryos
burning with uncanny,
yellow light

you feel like a creaky board
on an old dock
I focus on how I don’t fall through
and forget to reach out
to the handy man

the tension of a locked door
against the draw of my wrist
all of the opening I did or didn’t
a practice in greeting true ruin
with a grin