playback

playback

at 2 am, 

we are only  

specks of dust

on a CD, 

just spinning, 

spinning 

in the dark. 

where to, 

captain?  

i can't see anything

but the dying sunlight

on your hair--

glowing at the edges, 

my heart. 

going cross-eyed

staring at 

the spindle. 

knife-sharp, 

with the sly gleam 

of curiosity. 

spinning, spinning, 

the minutes 

trickling by. 

trying to see 

beyond that sliver, 

be more than half

of a whole.

hair standing 

on end, 

we're in 

zero gravity--

moon dust

like flour 
I blow 

from my hands. 

won't you release

your hold 

and cut us 

loose, 

womb to umbilical cord-- 

so we can float, 

float far away?

asphyxiation, 

cold blood.

our bleached faces

melting 

into the disc--

your fingers blue

like the earth

from a distance.