i stand stiffly on the cliffs edge,
and in the whispering wind
the three shapes of our laughter chime
in the tiny hall.
we remember our toes in the thirsty
red earth, it singed the skin on the backs of your knees
we remember your breath,
now filling in my lungs; it erupts,
and fills again.
Tombstones blanched by moonlight
so far from self, and i
am no longer: am less.