Grief is sometimes a pairof oversized trousers.I put my legs in and all airpresses upward.For one whole season Iremain untethered,clutching that weary spacebetween dereliction and circumference.Curves and edges on wallsare the first to vanish,then gravity and all points of repair,beat by beat leave the softshrieks of anxiety,wound, courage, impatience,and finally dissolve the music ofthe earth and its living crew,the grace of atoms.The outside collapses on the inside.Neither ground,nor any trace of departure,there is only a longbewildered orbiting.

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash