a broken puzzle
we are all in pieces
holding a moment between our fingers
waiting for the kettle to boil
getting dressed when half-asleep
going down a goat trail
running our hands over the deliciously knobbly surfaces
with the taste of forgotten passengers
soft moisture on our faces
being torn away
coming to a place outside time, beyond geography
counting our bones
hearing the light
ghost fingers, invisible touch
lying like a broken puzzle