halos

Not one hundred pages in
and the tug is there and then it isn't.
In time and then all at once.
It's a desert or a jungle out there.

It's freezing, and there's not much feeling
left for those flying between charging cables.
Watching ten things happen at once never felt
so lonely or so —

Dear mother. Dear father. And then we're
back. There wasn't much here anyway, right?
In the cold breeze, on the coldest night, with an hour
before the light will cut through the blinds inopportunely

and on purpose, the last morsel of what once
framed a bed, whole love, meagerly
held out hands in plea and hoped that the world damned
was to be saved just a little while longer.