between

in the between space I settle my
heart hands lips teeth
sore with knowing

cast from stone or porous metal
poor skeleton
wrapped in flesh barely

I’ll make you strong from the in-side.

who speaks? whose fingers trip
from neck-spine to base of back,
the one who waits or the one who pauses?

I push my lot ahead of me
in bags left over from my mother
but nothing fits, it
tries but

some turn
away or in or

I take a hand held to me
eyes tight
eyes open.