The Expiring Credentials of Touch

 we spent our time on the fulcrum. though the lever mattered just as well. 

we spun on our toes. sticks in the wind. waiting for the storm to measure our incentives. 

worn by the edge. shallow trespassers. in a fairy tale of our own invention. 

our weight shifted. the engine stalled. 

where we were emptied its pockets. 

we negotiated the abyss. drawing our escape in stolen pencils. 

solving the void with soiled dresses. and the places that we left behind.