Telling: Streams & Logs


That's alright

The way the emptiness of the house
washed over the sheets and the sun
let the breeze in and the tilt of my
chin exposed my throat

The lifted palm of a Sunday afternoon
and the discovery of being not alone.

I am rubbing the fat of it into my skin even now.
The easing of the joints. The all body grin of, Well
that's alright then.