If the haze could cover the shadow of my trembling
I would tremble through the body and not be ashamed
A silhouette now marks the frame
A silver gilded ghost to her haunting
And the seconds are marked with days
A finger sown pantomime show
All of my bones exposed
All of my flesh resolved to decompose
All cold spaces and vacancies
Though inside I reconcile the trembling
Saying that the shadow disguises my crumbling for bending
That tripping’s just a metaphor when I’m small enough to crawl
Into the hide space in the walls of my secret room
The walls that know all of the secrets I trust it to keep
What will I resolve with no dreams left of a life lived by my side?
Whose hand was it that gripped another’s under the table?
The same that traced lines around silk embroidery and porcelain
Ignoring plastic eyes that glazed over silent and agitated
A knowing look to write pages
Whose body was that?