the screen/splits/rain
casting strewn drops on a sill
which soak into the wood
becoming nothing more—than stains
to remember this grey day
where light couldn’t fit through the clouds
to shine,
to remind us of the <good>
in all the ocean,
of the breeze
and the warmth
if we weren’t so numb/
if we weren’t so scattered

how are we lucky?

and though i don’t believe, i know
i. am. blessed.
to lie beside you,
to have and to hold
the entire world
if only for this moment
with nothing and everything
holding us together.
we are
this statistical anomaly:
two satellites lost,
floating through the cosmos,
to God knows where,
but together,

how lucky are we?


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