I find your shadow in the shop rooftop again, our silhouettes snow-angeled on ash. In this city, God’s heatwave shrouds windows and exiles in
Sunlight and tree limbs sway across the back fence, An Indonesian shadow play. The villain is my aloe vera In the large clay pot.
And still surprised by unconscious counting when I swim the backstroke or find I miss him. Numbers as benchmark, as dissolution. One beige-walled