the cool feeling of losing, occluded by a humid morning. the knotted center of loss which twists into the abdomen and is rolled over upon

after the night of my skin over your skin in the window and the outline of the fence and i can feel your hand which is not helping bring me back from the window

stumbling into my clothes and telling you not to follow, the lights are on and the door is unlocked

jasmine cascades out of the darkness and my fists and my mouth as i stare cottony and dumb at the sky and the glimmering windows of the falling apart houses, my silence blossoming whitely, the sound of my own breathing from far away

the ferocious corner dog is barking ferociously, closing in on whatever smaller mammal is shrieking a crescendo known only to prey

i sit on your steps and call you and cannot tell you that i need you to also be on your steps

walk home barefoot down the center of the road until west street, stop only once to pick up a large chunk of cement and put it in my purse

the men with their shopping carts do not stop me, the ones clustered under the lights of the gas station do not stop me, the men in their pulpits do not stop me, the man following me does not stop me, the ones on tv do not stop me, the men in their hoodies with their hands in their pockets do not stop me