Observance

Like a ritual washing you are
far removed from;
your voice is comatose.
Whispers—dragonflies that
fall like scalded bullets.
Ordinary insects burning
holes beneath feet, like small
cups of sun. Standing over
obligation, overwritten-overdrawn,
I see clearly. This is my rescue
fantasy. Erase my arms and slip
over me, like light blue—
shoulder exposed, shoulder covered.

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