“
I am sitting on the
edge of the impartial
bed, I have been turned to crystal, you enter
bringing love in the form of
a cardboard box (empty)
a pocket (empty)
some hands (also empty)
Be careful I say but
how can you
the empty
thing comes out of your hands, it is
a pressure, a lack of
pressure
Like a deep sea
creature with glass bones and wafer
eyes drawn
to the surface, I break
open, the pieces of me
shine briefly in your empty hands
Atwood, from Circle Games
