THINGS INSIDE OTHER THINGS

In my wallet is my identity.
It is where my name, age, weight and all
is kept when I’m not using it.

We are always in
a week, a month, a year,
a now.

In the spaces between silence and silence
what is, is.

In between daylight is raindrops.

In the windows, the houseflies scream and die.

Winter bisects summer.

Intervals of you in me.

And the heart goes beat – silence – beat.

I lift my hand above my face
and spread my fingers
in between my fingers is night.