I felt the air change
reverberate
like an echo, empty
and full.
I wonder if it is
relational to
where I stand
from you -
or was it you who
moved away?
Conversely,
the air feels sharper
as I try to shake away
the cobwebs -
Who are you anyway?
Your image rebounds
across my retinas
and my lips are dry
from whistling away
that glaring, graceless sky
as I swing weightless
from my rope.
I hear a limb crack
and I do not know
if it belongs to me
or the oak.
