Musing #3

The Room We're Always Never in Together

I.

He speaks to me,breaking the glacial silence
plastered on the walls of the room
we’re always never
in together;
clinging to his every word
holding me hostage —
swept up in the phantasmagoria
of a dream (receding) that
ofttimes dresses up the
sorrow living here — and
I tremble, trembling still.

For time has shiftedthe way we once were:
him ‘moving forward’ as if
I come from nowhere,
going nowhere fast and
trying, still, to
breach the heaviness of this
...