Pour yourself—pure and cool—
into a glass jar filled with the simple
sand of me at the floor.
We’ll churn, shake, and spin
in our friction, turn together
become cloudy, become one.
Time and sense will suspend
as we cling to our turbid union.
We won’t know how long this
state will last before gravity
forces the natural breaking apart.
When your water goes quiet, larger
chunks of my wits will return to rockbottom
faster than the crumbs
of hope left in my heart.