there in the day

to day constancy

there in the grain

of our tongues

as we speak

each to each

of the most

trivial things

there is where

the how arrives

on soft cat feet

oblivious of the night

there is the story

you said then said

along the seams

between dark and light

the story we heard

the story we tell

stitching our scars

along calloused lines

one strangled knot

woven into another

an embroidery

of nooses

until we’re hardened

to brittle words

which shatter all

we once were

thin crystal slivers

from a broken glass 

scattered like stars

across the floor

(April 19, 2021)