my walls are not fragile

I'd like to kiss your knees

And at the corner of our kiss, a hem hangs, mid creation

Balancing the fray

A potential collapse, we imitate ourselves

Over and over until we burst

Or a confluence, merging, multiplying

But it's already been played

The kiss ends the world either quiescently or not

And time's teeth are giving little indication of direction

punch soaked

The imaginary boy -

Reminds me that edges can also be soft

Harshness delicate -

Tumbles from my hair and onto

The soft mat of grasses laid at my feet

Prepared long ago

For this precise landing

Woven from below