BROKEN DAYLIGHT HOLDS THE FULL SPECTRUM

The fabric stretched at last

& tore, that patterned silk

When I open my hands

no one is hastening

in risk of rain or traffic

to come to me

Instead this expectation

of disappearance only

a list of what we see & lose

in the refugee summer

when the street names

are on my tongue like dark

honey, wine, & peeled almonds

I remember

your body’s comfort

the bones beneath the skin