Like sad­ness

Domus - - POETRY -

in short, our con­di­tion is one of dis­tance and of dis­tances left over when you trace your fin­gers along my spine you trace in their mean­ing too there is a fresh pulse that doppler­shifts be­tween the right­eous and the un­prin­ci­pled like a reg­u­lar out­burst that, all of a sud­den, res­onates from my bones in truth, you re­main largely pre­oc­cu­pied man­ag­ing some­how, as much as can be man­aged my af­fairs and your own and yet the droplet makes its way back to the tearduct un­precip­i­tated, while you like sad­ness, on the near side wilt your­self awk­wardly into your own hide­away and in the next mo­ment I, in­ca­pac­i­tated like a crip­ple only wait for you wait for you on the far side of sad­ness

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