of my hands, there is little still
behind my vacant, searching eyes.
a transient word, curling through
the air of space, silking off my lips
is barely enough to augment this.
my shadow, slave ever to the ground,
responding to the all-consuming light
of your antiseptic, calloused jaw
is a definition in the least, but fares
better still obscured within the
velvet curtain of a broken lamp.
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