Even the ground looks cold.
Your left hand wanders like a rabbit
nipping for green things in a dreamscape.
It looks like a hermit crab
on an ice floe in a conch shell.
I will just lay here anesthetized.
My knee swells in its cast like a rock in a bonfire.
We can go out soon and see all the mittens
and things we lost in the yard!
My palm’s tender tongue can not wait;
I hug you but you frown.
I hope you are sleeping.
It's morning and there is a trench in the yard
that was not there yesterday.
Your tires must have cut it sometime last night
when you left with your reasons.
A rabbit wanders through it like a tiny glacier.
It isn't able to find any green things.
The whole time I watch it my palm licks the heart-shaped wound
you scratched into my coffee table.