There’s fog for 20 metres from here
From here to screen
To midwinter
For the chill to draw out this splinter

If I could, I would. See?

I’m restless
But in a wrestle
Can’t follow the weather
Can’t stay in the metre

If I could, I would, sleep.

Too cold outside
And too humid in here
A key worn down
Takes longer
To get through this door
It will drag open slowly

Been here too long
Tale old as time
The shape of plants
The music stanzas
But I’m still a tooth
In someone else’s mouth
With the wrong tongue

And stay in mind
Maim me
Make me one of them
Pain-free, but will I lose my edge?
A soft body is weak
A soft mind is a victim
Tomorrow
Perhaps later

Turn on a flashlight
Colour it on the other
Side of my blood
Else the light will burn

If I could, I would. See?

Change at a whim
Shake with my Jin
These low ends screaming
To be trimmed
Pour cold water on it

A fog 20 metres from here
From here to screen
To midwinter
For the chill to draw out this splinter

Some metals recover
Twist and stick
Some plastics are flexible
While some men fade in mist

If I could, I would.

May 27, 2026 | Filed under Prose.