the sour falls slowly

dredging the past

as they pass

like an alchemist

making something out of everything

this feeling never let go of me

because I never let go of it

and I try to stand on parquet floors

swaying my hips and lifting the space

inside me

digging my toenails into the wood

finding a place for sutures to drip

I know this face

is levied against tides

that live to swallow

but my gulps

resist as hollow

no,

there is nothing left to take

– sheila c.