L’esprit d’escalier: without looking for the sky
▲▲▲I met you the way feet meet the edge
(without looking down) until my lungs
curr and hedge your sleep inside mine
(and I can’t find either when I need to
weigh the cold against my bones) a bed
of wind, your neck around my own wayward until
the world can’t see me under (the snow when it’s not
snowing) words across the roofs, there are words down the streets,
words around your tongue when you breath out
of your mouth (they lie with the leaves
under the way feet meet the edge (without looking for
for a sky) until your lungs cough and
hedge my tongue inside its teeth
