Flowing through the
thickest water to get
back home.
stone by stone
head by head
The conductor says
that
I’ve been left behind.
At least I saw her smile.

Do you know what the
slap of stale breath
against cotton at 4:18
in the morning sounds
like?

12 hours of parceled sighs
packed and planned in
a head
so full of nothing that
it would make you scream
to the sky for the offense
of it all.

Sleep was never the answer.