creme fraiche

morning eases monody. one is in
the throes of a division problem.
ample textures soft as now
the empty baggage of the dream
retrieve from decades passed.

the curtains sift collation of
a tincture as oases seeming
to be dry. an invocation
fallen from leftover
anno domini,

each moment cohering in absentia.
yet with layers real as blue
is fused with something
we talk and then

we listen to the ample stories
of response. as repositioning
one's mind is an accompaniment
to body, and the body
its own constant episode