cul-de-sac

               so I must 

--and we, 

has fallen

                  behind

my hands empty--

I hold, only--the lines

                        on my palms

      the flat light, the wood

siding, straight and fading

and surely-the shadows

were empty, and the velvet

dark, simply the blurring

of lashes--

--surely the world is flat

dull and lined, surely

it must be empty?

                          from rib

to rib

         the echo

launches

                    itself

                    through the dark

    

and far away

the ghosts

        are laughing

        and stamping

                        and the thud

is on my bones

         throw their heads back

here--where the street

ends in houses

the world sprawling

and still

             --don't feel its

own hands

I am perched

on my 

ribs--listening

and slack

                in my skin

this was meant to be a hymn

this was meant to be a drum-beat

this was meant to call

this is nothing

                     but an echo--

the words shriveled

and fell from the pale

and brittle--

        don't say the wind speaks

it whistles and scratches

                              -only.

surely, I am 

full of echoes

                --surely

my words

are shadows--

surely I will not answer again.