When I return from the dead
I am on the deck, supine
Treegreen wavering against skyblue
I know to check my phone: fifteen minutes
Unbound, I tilt my head
back towards the roof’s rightangle
A lightthread
Appears, lengthens, shortens, disappears
Appears, shortens, disappears, lengthens
The spider, the air, the sun
The earth, the mind, the heart
What is moving?