insisted, lauded with water

crawling into Summer as the patterns eat my flesh


ruptures happen
all the time
along the seams
in the fabric
of the universe,
especially along the parts of me
that mostly go unseen
between my shadows weened
where the light reaches
the preen and bends
at the intercede of bleed
and as my memory recedes
embellished with grainy images
of yesteryear and what once was
all these dusty sentiments
become constant shooting stars 
wading through what chaos hoops
in danced loops
arm and arm with me,
woven sleeved bowsprits
believed to lean
where the eclipsed careens
round gravity deemed
as heavy as it needs
to be to return me
to something that begins
silently again
trailing embers
across the hulls
in the sky,
all their paint
fading into the curvatures of night
and I
with both hands
with all ten fingers
folded in prayer
am another empty cup again
looking for the land
where the milk
in the tides
never runs dry...