Fragility of slender hands
tremens through Tirupathi streams
dark marines and fronds of kelp
the sonic waves of washed-up
dreams, your synapses have
strung your arms as sitars.
The kingdom of music sung
faint, breathy, famined under
the weave of nutrient need.
I'm stargazey and you have now
gone nebula, a cloud of waste
freshens my forgotten depths
with a wild-cat cry.
"It's hard" you say and break to sob
love wells in me
like blood in a scratch.
