#2429 -- the body is a clock

 

2429

7.236

26.viii.26

the body is a clock

 

it takes a breeze to know one

 

touch of all these hands

 

we are searching for the night

tribe of us

listening out for it

wherever

 

even under all these hats

 

I am always receiving the sky

 

the rest of us are yet to be eaten

 

take it for granted

take it as read

 

all around the walls

dripping

any dark does

 

the sky of where we are

goes just up till gone

 

the hand’s now a map of what we have held

 

you can breathe in a garden