Clawed Temporary

All seams still 

as morning weaves on

granules, shades as shuts the billowing wings 

bent shades to shadows forced on sill

Yet staring in, 

as if appearing to

be more than just injections 

And so more thimbled glass between 

I, with you 

collected shards 

remembering not to

cancel yet out memory, 

or to grow our hinges

clawed and temporary 

where dusk and rusted doors have closed