Coffin
i really do think
you're there, gently
pressing your palms
into the border; i note
your fingerprints:
everywhere, now.
little corners inside
the lining of my chest
light up—tighten like
violin strings, the cords
holding my breath
taut. then snap:
unravel, and i know
you're gone (again).
exhale the flickering
under the sternum,
and keep up
with the pavement,
mark another day on
the calendar since:
the unrepentant cold
of you & me—ever
staying, slowly fading
until i could feel: cupped
in my hands, the embers
buried in ash. i can't
let go of slow burn, holding
on for sparks (you come
once in a while). this is not
all in my head.