Wordle #52

Week 52

When we speak

Your throat rattles

As if there were a fuse

Loose within the relay.

Dyspathy dislodges the carbon

From your segmented lips.

We could argue

Time immemorial.


I carry your urn

In the vacuous shallows

Of my cryogenic heart

Each window that passes

Is another incomplete erasure.

Evacuation only elevates sorrow

No one can say

What will float to the surface

When severance

Reaches the evidential stage.


The scorch of the moon

Burns cold like mint

I’ll never forget

The charge of your smile

Between my thighs

We used to know how to kiss

Love flees in the analog

Of a migrant blockade

Once is the hardest habit to break.