I.

Three doorways away

                                               you lurch over it

Curdling mid-air,

                                               shimmering sharply

                                               like a broken lightbulb,

still socketed:

                                               flicking and pricking

the sickness

                                               you said,

“we’d never see again”

singed spoons with a walnut

desire to be drawered again

                                                  to help the flame help

Three doorways away

I sit slantedly slumped

thumbing pages of cats, hats,

partying with Lorax,

                            Without warning it crash lands,

                            melon balls from our solitude,

                            hush Horton’s Who, yet

                                                                          you, looking for you,

                           in our tin casket ziplining us along

                           the sickness, finding you,

me, loving you,

forget this happened

to us.