It comes like snow in the night.
The way June turns to July
then August
with its heat that
sucks the culvert dry.
Like dirt under your fingernails
it comes from things you touch
and their touching you back.
Like layers of silt; like cold
in your coffee…I can’t drink it.
It does not come like love or hate
sudden, fiery, electric, powerful
to rattle your soul and bones. No
it is subtle
like falling out of love
or losing hatred
for someone you see
That is what it is like.
Losing something everyday
like the layer of skin that
blows away and exposes you
just that little bit more.
You know it is silent.
You know it is coming.
Before you see it
you realize
you can’t get off the floor.