the softest side of the skin is unseen
the last wisp of hair glimmers without the sun
foreseen only in the distant detail
we look closer and closer at the clock
and hope it will stay still
no arm moving forward
or back to a false belief
but right here
and seemingly now
this will all be part of the cycle
just like the dismissal of cells
that appear as skin
when we fold our hands together
we pray that they cannot ever
separate or lose the other
this is not what we get
when we praise one another
when it is undue
this is what we get
when we finally get
what it is
that takes us over
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