I pretend to be a different creature. Different from
what?

We are all the same flesh, same thought, same
irrelevant air, same brutal stars.

Little is lost. Wisps of clarity emerge until my life
lies before me, transparent.

A fist frozen midair, a word stilled in a mouth.

Anxious blood awaits the next heartbeat.

Numb fingers cling to the edge, but the edge is
something assumed, like playing a piano with
another’s amputated hands.

A thin thread of vein to stitch the holes in ourselves.

Everything up to now, a preamble.