—THANKFUL IS THE WORD LONELINESS NEEDS THE MOST

                                                        Estuary

         I hold your fear in between my molars, jaw unclenched, fever piping on a sill somewhere.  

         Outside a ghost V spreads through the ether like black smears from a flock. The sun breathes shallow, looks the other way while each anorexic street ponders protection. This is how we know our bones are undecided, that choice is translucent.

        You say, We could just strip down and swim the lake, or take turns bending truths.

        You say, We could paint the mountains pristine green, or re-route an estuary.

        Better yet, I say, We could stay still and pretend we’re all we have.