That time we talked about time, blind to how we tick
And I pretended to be real
I saw paint peeling over your shoulder
The sun striped your lapels
I was lost in translation
While your fingers tapped a mute tattoo
It’s true I was floored by a morse code inquiry
Could you feel the room breathing slow,
or hear the sound of blood flow?
You caught me comparing wrists
I saw a shadow split your collarbone and the silver chain it stole
While we traded words in search of something
I tallied the bricks in the wall, outside
all the buildings that you built
I’m condemned to memorise
Intonation arrests my mind
Do you know your accent chimes like
carved staccato honeycomb?
My eyes are on license to glimpse but not adore
Meaning dies beneath the footfall in the corridor
I’m in the margins you annotate
my mind on a sliding scale
where it fails
I haemorrhage the bits your monologue omits
Trawling austerities in my sandpaper archive
A hole-punched history repeating ’til I slump
Rolodexed to destruction
The Interview
