*
This shadow half iron, half
reaching out, breaking loose
--with both hands the hands
that no longer come for you
and in their place the dirt
grows back together
--in such a wound you die
in two places at the same time
make a path for the sky
you remember and underneath
--nothing but your arms
tearing each other apart
--handful by handful there’s room
for a little more shadow
a little more you can say.
.
apocryphaltext Vol. 2, Nos. 2 & 3