The Seams in After

 the wind tells its stories while it waits for us to catch up. just time drawing with broken pencils. and the softer lies that distance creates.

we're the fouler math of skin and bone. the orphans of division. the decimals always sharper than we remember.

the truth arrives in pins and needles. an aching numbness.

we're free. dead leaves released from their branches.

the world gnashes its teeth.

and we get bitten.

we open our eyes. alive only for an instant.

but it's still too much.