Rummage Failure

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.