the attrition

the fine dust of loss

along the window ledges

that are my eyes


what if looking out

enough through them

would make them hollow

and cause collapse?

the dry eye of the weary


the salt eye of the lost


in rain that air turned liquid

that falling wet of relief

how it moves

and downward


washing wishes

to their threadbare vanishing

because looking through

you become blind

and blinded by that crust of

fear that was the wearing down of time.


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