THE CLOSET

Tentative fingers dive 

into the layers

entangled layers rather

of years together

This smooth cleavage-like

silk scarf from Brugge

A coarse cotton 

hand-loom in Bhutan

hairy, sweaty 

pulsating time

the pairs of watches

never worn together

never torn apart

heartbeat?

and I tug and pull out

the soul beneath flesh

smoke grey

my favorite one

from Istanbul

and it all tumbles out

as tears, memories

bruises and scars

I am a drowning closet

spilled on a cold floor.