*
One hand held out --you expect
it to end pressed against a rain
already mixed with turns
and falling too far
--what you will remember
is how this road died down
though you needed both hands
when it counted
the way these handlebars
still reach for a quiet place
and the sound your arms make
when holding close --she
would forget with you
what’s ahead, sometimes
dripping, sometimes she would lean
as far as possible
without touching your bones
or make room.
apocryphaltext Vol. 2, Nos. 2 & 3