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.