I rinse the screams from your ashes,
the aftermath from my fingertips.
My chest tightens, submits its will.
We made a mess of each other,
of dreams and ultimatums-
of our hearts’ heedless hinterlands.
I am but a shadow against
your diaphanous imposition,
a bible of bones wed and dated.
I never wanted to be free,
feed me, season me, throw me into a pot
with herbs and tubers and just stew.