Details

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Coals burned over wet mud, stubborn
like your fingers trying to mete
patterns on a whim
how syrupy content hung for life
at the crooks of your mouth

‘Commit to details’ you said
soon I found myself marvelling
at invisible veins, counting
something so pleasingly
esoteric in my documentations

And your exuberance extolled:
‘ten times happy me’
while the number of lights in
your house confessed as I counted
and I knew them like the alphabet;
I made passwords out of the times
they flickered on and off.

Photo by Moz Rauf