Break

Alone
October, face in clouds lit by the moon

August:
Salt water down my throat
Choke
On wet heat at night-- soft skin that’s been sundrenched

November, she writes:
“you became that for me, mixture of image/memory”

Ribbon of sleep
Slips through my hand
Four I’ve hurt this year; am I who I am?

Not as frail as you think;
You’ll break me
Opaque and weak
You'll break me; we’ll break me

April I wrote you, only person I got back to
Opaque and weak
You’ll break me; we’ll break me