My hand is out for you

I plucked an eyelash crop in my sleep. Wishes wet and unmoved, I watched a tree blush with Winter’s proposal. A white terrier barked behind glass. I couldn’t hear a word, but it seemed important he reach someone who wasn’t there. His body jumped with each howl.
I’m afraid my girls are lonely. Last night, I didn’t even want my skin touched, the guilt knowing it’s there for me and not wanting it. Instead, sweating through a sweater, sweating in a pillow, sweating in sleep – night’s marathon swim.

We’re such unstable rocks. A boulder field of bodies. Step. Rock. We practice balance like instruments. I’m blowing horns and crashing. Only the wind chime responds.

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