between blue and yellow
in indifference

a detached sense
draws me without self

not selfless—what I couldn’t help
under care or neglected

is what I would help
in you

both primaries
tuck into my head

a head of living paper
and these folds warp

into your interior clothes,
a dress whose materials give what they are

their power
if that is the word for this

force, this force that
moves through us

like a sickle
even as we stand not talking

together, then we’ll be more
attentive in the future