Just like that
the pennies fell
the counter split
beneath the weight of the kettle
and you watched the crowd
give way.
Nothing beneath our grief
keeps us rooted
no helium string effort
plucking our shadows
from the pavement.
Our everything
is temporal, now.
We are building a safe space
on the backs of wedding invitations
on the sides of bus stops
in open parks
and in our hipped throats:
the ones that speak for our
lower halves
with our upper halves' voice.
Nothing we say, now,
can retract what we shouted.
We just have to live it out.
Like bridge fences
Like slam stages.
Like hotel room floors
and crying the whole drive home.
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