"sleep, troubled sleep, the troubled waking of the heart"

the dredges grind upriver but i do not look.
instead i turn my attentions to things more
immediate. a function to predict the phase
of periodic abysses. how to take the first
step on what was so recently thin air.
i imagine you on the opposite side and
take pause in a vision of you feeling
the same puzzlement that sometimes
crawls up onto my porch and eats the
sunflower seeds i leave out for the birds.
in my vision you also distrust your first step.
but in the ancient amnesia we get closer.
for one moment before we fall out of phase.
we are just like always.
we forget to notice we're touching.