What I thought was a whole was a
cumbersome halfness of it all.
A terribly incomplete
and in it’s halfness a burden endowed to me.
I will never understand
how such lightness is a misery
The softness that comes and goes
all split-edged things sampling the
middle of me
A halfness is not a whole
but it is enough to be mourned
It is enough to be something lost
my knees on the kitchen floor being partially made myself