i touched moon a dense room on the inside of sky white light an afterlife ribs shook with all it took to say words so soft in my cheek yarn woven in fingers that learned how to grip softness an edge of sun that will hang in me for weeks and months of life i stand shoes full up with sand that will one day meet the sheen of pearl sleeper at the wheel i’m stealing self from cuffs that sold that bill of— that said, sleep child you’re no good. lost my tongue but fingers flinched with electric starts all there is to say and not say borrowed words but brief they were mine to stumble on pressing ear— drum to the wall of time torn edges of lung lay my hands to the pulse a rusty stethoscope could not find but O— unlearned rhythm you are the song