In The Absence of Infinity by Jennifer Lothrigel

Call me speckled pebble

in the moonlight,

the moisture slick on my smooth body.

Call me incense smoke

dancing across a red stained glass window.

Call me unafraid of losing myself.

Call to the mediator of impermanence,

digging her long fingernails into resistance.

I want to hold on

like strangling vines,

like the haunting ghost

flickering bedroom lights.

Who am I in the absence of infinity?

The overstayed lover

reliving her abandonment issues,

the foggy morning

rolling itself into nothingness,

the blue tide reaching towards the shore

crashing

over and over again?

Call me void of belonging

to one thing,

call me the dripping nectar

of a swollen blood orange

drying sticky to goose-bumped skin

in the thick of winter’s reign.

I am the moon howling back,

inaudible to human ears

yet deeply fulfilled.

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