Sweat, Oil, and Summer Winds

time moves when you linger

and is never less eager

disregarded and out of sight

the closer it gets the further you fall

into a tangle of red 

into a porcelain bowl

with hands spread 

stone turns to sand

and comes together again

into a comforting embrace

into a loving space 

which fractures as quickly as it formed

disregarded and out of sight

making it harder to put up a fight

a shifting stone that can do no wrong

pulling and pushing you all along

into a violent embrace 

into a room where no one knows your face

where you are welcomed and unwanted

stuck in a place you love 

but constantly confronted

by a tangle of red

by a porcelain bowl that breaks as you approach it

by open hands that close before you can reach them

coming together to bring you down

to where you thought you belong

only to find out

you were wrong

all along