THAT PART OF him I can't see enters the part of me he can't see. We know each other there, held in this darkness as old friends who have known each other but since lost the need of anything to say. Stripped of these bodies we continue remembering what it was to be exposed and dependent to survive so many. He is manifest and disappearing. Snail on the windowsill, a light rain soaks.
Rocking my knees.
Hey, Diddle, Diddle…
Hey, Willie Winkie…
Cold rain comes
down from yellow sky.
A burp, a sigh.
Watch his lids
close the world again.