Lessness

by oskar gambony-steding

Is it a continuous tightening from the outside in, Trembling outs t r e t c h e d compression the imploding pop like a rubber band

Or a careless tearing loose in passing, fabric caught on barbwire claws Exposed threads torn apart but still somehow connected

If you called me, Wilting, all of your blemishes fraying steadily away or Just before you were squished between rolling finger tips The subtle back and forth of unwound flesh, gelatinous amidst some intention gone sour, Frozen and thawed by steel on slick ice and flaming condominiums

When they snapped and you found yourself caked into the ridges of these nervous fingers; pressed into their own unintentional identity for just a moment before they wipe you away, crusting on a pant leg