With one hand I stir
the peaches into my yoghurt:
an idle motion
(like when you put your lips
to my hand, there, and then.

I inhaled basement air,
a blank TV screen,
leftover popcorn and I...

I was suddenly so damn good
at feeling nothing at all).

The light of a winter morning
offers no comfort, however,
I’m content. You have your answer.
Is there anywhere to go from here?