You boundless, roundabout beauty
Buoyant ’til the bitter end.
Callused fingers search for a home in me
And snag the stitches on my left side
Tucked beneath a flap of fabric where no ones ever bothered to look.
You twist a loose suture back and forth and back and forth between your thumb and index, and before
Either of us know it…
Your calluses have been all smoothed out,
And I’ve lost a stitch, and the rest are soon to follow.
A mess of your making, I begin to unravel before you:
All string and browning cotton reminding you that it’s a plant, one that hasn’t seen sunlight in a quarter Century.
But as all plants do, I stretch towards you when you wake.
You drop me in water, and I sink to the bottom,
Ready to return to the sea foam from which I came.
An insoluble puzzle
Of insoluble fibers.
Adam melted down into dirt.
