“scratches on a marble staircase”
my fingernails scrape around
a gilded curvature
breaking every time
i pull after your
ascent
ahead of the potential
laid into eternity—the word
dead
feels all thick in my teeth.
like a candy made, overprocessed,
it is too complex to digest.
my fingers are maroon,
audible in their break
of fresh soil above your tomb,
where i lie in constraint.
