Running with Strangers

the chafe of time was sharp as summer finally surrendered. the miles accumulated. a thick membrane of circumstance and exhaustion. the mud on her feet. the sun at her back. as the maps drew their paths under her skin. all broken bottles and bent needles. in the chaos of perpetuity.

deflated dolls with bows on their hips. drowning in a deepening silence.

the salt on the margins. vague colors in the remuneration of flesh. the subtle pierce of the hook. as the worm escapes the fish.

a heavy clown. brick eyes. concrete lips. turning the ladder. as the ceiling forgets.

it wasn't always that high. but now it is. the falling is simple. the bite of gravity. the comfort of the bandages.