food turns to ash
in your mouth.
your grasp
turns to dust
in my hand.
the harder i try
to hold you
the faster this top
keeps spinning.
i can’t
     i can’t
          i can’t.
but you always said
i could
     i could
          i could.
our time rots
and passes away.
these fears turn to statues;
solid as stone.
ivy climbing-
moss growing-
mushrooms blooming.
the screams turn to tears
in our throats.