To you who sits small beneath the cup of my hand,
Promising to press every worry into

To you that follows me doggedly where I walk,
Clicking to my heels,
Cooling the ground for fractions of time,
Never long enough;

To you who scores my face with the razors edge of yourself,
And who highlights the
Vast lonliness that is reflected in the
Muddy desert dust that is my iris;

To you that pool around me at noon,
Run from me in the morning,
And reach for what we both were in evening;

To you who climbs beneath the indentation in my chair,
Cupping my butt in your dark embrace;

You do not go unnoticed.


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