Hints of Yellow

an aching reverence on my shoulder holds my spine by the neck

as i groan in secret, at length

my gut rickety, like a chalk with a gap at the end

beckoning winter heat from the west

when i go outside, 

the creaky door falls apart

i'm unsure if it's a door or a million moth, after all

the day holds nothing

only a translucent touch,

hints of yellow, or i forgot 

sprint so fast, halt

a stop before i start

how did i start?

face-down on the strickets you lie

touch them with an arm

because you loved them,

as did i,

and i really did

the ground of the desert,

the wailing peasant

from this world,

the very best lie