trickily snitching itself on jutting nails and fingers
my dark sweater—gift from you—reminds me of pills
we swallowed.
we say
nothing so dark it cannot be repeated in
church and before
this god of mine.
we say nothing so light that it
should be repeated: bear witness, we do.
& nothing else.
so trickily snitched on hinges and door frames;we are trying to remember what childhood
felt like
in the fingertips and in the toes.
we too have roots that need raindrops
we too need reminding of the simpler things.