The failed tiramisu I poured into a bag, leftover supper
that clings to its bowl, the leak that almost happened,
the slow drip that continues, the sticky underside
of a snail on the window, the gecko who disappeared
from our cellar, he took our luck with him, my hand
entering the safety of its pocket, Gulliver the fish
in his green cage, his fear of me, a demi-god who gives
light then takes it away, my panic at two a.m.
when the thunder hasn’t started yet, the glass after it breaks
in the street, the long year of rust waiting to escape
its pipe, time knocking and knocking, time leaving me
behind, time stretched out beside me, trying to comfort,
all this will pass and this and this and this.
