Let me lay my head down for a moment, just a second’s rest. The sunlight on my face is so
heavy, my hot thoughts lead.
Go on, I’ll catch you up.
Wood cool against my cheek. I sleep
and wake to find my body taken for granted
for food, or fuel, or pleasure. Anyway, it’s gone.
I remain, myself, a head on a bench, staring at a world askew.
Not how I’d expected the day to go, throwing open our tent flaps this morning, deep in a
valley of gold and purple swaying crocuses, your hand on my long-gone rump.