after George Herbert
An empty bed in an empty house, the faucet dripping slowly.
One bite out of two chocolates in a box of bitter truffles.
A small hand and a larger hand slicked with sweat, pushing back hair.
The car trunk left open overnight.
Waking from a dream where everything was grey.
An hourglass. A pear. A shirtless woman
with her back to you.
The hands that sculpted our bodies
illuminated finally by a tired sun.