After all is said and done
the eyes find it harder to look up
as they bow shyly to discover silence
behind a curtain of boredom
or how after hours of refusing reflection
they harden into dark planets
and pretend orbit

After all, we all end up
crawling deep into corners
of the surgeon’s bed
our wrinkling flesh numb and red
fussed over with plastic gloves
explored with sterilized instruments
We invent a space from beneath the ashes
of fragmented omens
with nothing asked
and nothing said