Lozenge throated in sitting up straight with a bulb out her eye she feather traced blue solitude into something softer and rounderbut not perfect she wouldn’t dare to stress a witness with perfectionsince that would cause comparison and after all it stifledher creativity under the water of this place called what is possibleyes traced this feather and softened it softened it placedall that was left of the sky and pushed it into a heap so we couldpalm it with our blood heated cheeks and call it beauty inthe reflection of this knife she forgot about the knife butyou didn't you never placed it down never trusted any of iteven softened even imperfect even in that supposed dangerless ambiguityno you didn't forget the promises the before the waiting theway tenderness ripened fast like it was afraidin the well you had spent your life furnishing with lovepoems and songs about remembering noyou didn't forget what comes after heartbreak.