I’m going to write poetry
for you, though you won’t understand it.
And I’ll wrap it around your
slim body like Christmas lights
and you will try to put out your hand and grab
me, anything, something to hold on to
but there will be nothing, there will be
complete uncertainty.
in fact, you are sideways,
spinning, nothing to
ground you or keep you
in place, nothing to stop you
or still you or solid the space.