all these words…like dry ocean sandstorm
quicksand
undertow
gravity hung upside down by his ankles
and the voice harnessing echoes
in the space between shadow and light
these words i could spin into towers for you
walls of sand so high
you’ll think you’ve found the bottom of the well
when you lift up your arms and scream into the night sky,
and the echo of your own name pulls you back to life
into a present autumn dawn
aching
with a distant memory
of something once held in your hand.