girl

in a corner of the world i cannot reach 

stitched into the curtains and the woodgrain

hours wait, patient and unfinished. every clock loses its etiquette; dizzy hands circling themselves. 

tiny rivers of oil 

through the pipes in single syllables 

drip,drip,drip…

i write her name once, a threadbare ribbon.

and the page blooms into a garden of inkstains,

violets smudged beneath restless thumb. the paper forgives my trespasses.