The Singular

A Poem

You think my isolation has the same meaning since you were there in the beginning? I don’t want to hold this over you I want to be found still in your bed with books and arms and breasts and legs The heap of covers just molded into a statue of a barricade And in keeping everyone out the corners of the bed draw in draws closer to this middle which isn’t really anything to hitch onto left bare to the wind

J.D. Harms 2020