limbs, overlapping

a poem

if you could see me now, said the girl soaked in uneven rain

we’ve grown roots, changeable, rolling in shapes. i’ve known the little leaks, that run, run, run like water, telling me to escape

in one, two, three.

what if you could see me now?

knowing that i’ve turned the page, regarding your dismay, my will, the world with its corners pressed into the three walls we occupy

you utter things about the world being all you are. well, i’ve known you long enough

and it’s nothing of the sort

we’re here, digging the layers of all the limbs overlapping, to find nothing we can gnaw on

years have passed, identified, picked up, carried away.

you don’t come much these days

it gets too narrow and cold

i’ve got pockets full of names

pages, wet, only from the rain.