the very much of alone

the very much of alone
wears me like a coat
a vapor of fog surrounding
the surface area of myself

pushes past gravity
into the absence
of his height and breadth
the trunk of him in the center
of the forest of not here

now wraps in skeins of voids
pinning bows and arrows
between my arms at my sides
leaving only space for fingers
to caress quietly
keeping small company
in the interim