I know you will know what I mean—that I am meant for you, back in the alcoves, you come thudding in the nightfall and I am fallen, felled like a poplar in the heartland, yes. back there is the trees, yes. I carry the eyebright on my back, yes, among all this bacteria and loam. I am never able to keep someone. and already in my side—a long spoke piercing, a slash liquid—something to lay your hands into.