if we lay down all the patients we know
between you waiting for me to say it and me
saying it we would still have enough space
for a house too small for us to grow in.
their sleep could mend the roof broken
by misaimed stones tethered to footprints
of runrunrun in the mulch of mango leaves.
if i was a mole on your lips i could've
cloudwatched inside the oxymask.
instead, i had to listen to your breath
wheezing like the lyrics of a rainstick
filled with something shattered.
on sleepless nights, however, the roof may
cave. but i know people, the ones without
patience, who can only dream under pillows
of whetstone, and i love them. there, i said it.
~ ajay
1/10/2024
