List

Two or three things come after longing. A path I didn’t know before. The trees here throw off their leaves, stand naked, arterial. Truth is in the blood. Nothing you could solve by showing up. Lay down with false images, wake up with pillows wreckage on the floor, bottom lip cracked. Apathy of sky begets more sky. Itch of dry skin, dry as wood dust now, all your hands forgotten, well fled. A few more things. Things to list. Tomorrow.