Helen (IIII III)

Across the room, blue
at the door, flicking up a hood.
I don’t need to say they’re leaving

He’s a karyatid. That’s what I was thinking of, when I was thinking of limping wolves that gnawed off their rotten limbs and kept moving through the ice. He has blood on his lips. I thought so. All that weight he’s pushing up and he doesn’t even show it. I’d snap

Helen (IIII II)

Are you here?
You don’t tell me when you’re gone

try
not being seen, looked-at
unfamiliar

moving past moving past moving past

don’t fucking touch me

my skin’s like paper
sounds like paper
at least