this small eclipse

must i whisper through this dark

that you are the heavy light

that sweeps through the tears of summer

saying

all we have

all we are

is an old cat boxed in by the smell

of a new day promising that as long

as it is alive

it won’t forget what it was to be

you say

this is wrong

there is the idea that

there must be more this than this

the suffocated tree with a bag on its branches

rattling off the last words of a deaf man

the fridge with nothing in it still purring

what it meant to hold hot chicken

you again rouging your lips with the yellow

and alone in the shower of your breathe

asking me after we become we

did i just watch the universe

did i just become the stars

i reply no

everything is not enough

space extends daily

beyond our arms

you dry off

blood rising to the extremities

with a towel that has not been cleaned

in years