Our cups, half empty, wait
as if in a dream.
We decompose the afternoon
into a kingdom where life
is forever repeating itself.

We separate into walls
whitening with departure.
The motion of our love
brings up nothing but antibodies.
All vital signs drop like leaves
when the weather makes it
impossible to hang on.

I am here sweeping up
the broken pieces of sunlight
before the quarrel goes further.
You’ve left me shipwrecked,
watching wind thin itself
into a delicate thread,

that seeks the eye of a needle.