the distance required to keep it secret
is the same as the height to remain still
like branches of trees stretched to their limit
the marigolds I planted for my love
in the air breathing I do what I can
avoiding the viral load puncturing
so many ways to let someone in
a life no longer useful disposed of
in this imperfect world where blossoms burst
we idly watch resources deplete
and snap a wishbone evenly in two
To eat dust that works hard to be a ghost
to get closer to nothing that is also something
the right set of problematic patterns