—FLY ROBIN, FLY

Hollow

We were going to live forever, your blind cats too, that was the plan, but every bottle had a hole in it, every glass a crack that leaked, and the riverbeds were dry and the sun thirsted like an iguana in the desert, and you kept saying, Give me one more week, Give me one more week, until forever fell apart, leaving us both bone dry and broken, two empties made of hollow glass.