Contours

late answers lap around
the bliss-wet air beneath me
cold gulps, as many as required
won’t seal up the ceiling stare
stay, filter
now all of my rats have departed
I can wane somewhere
apart from the noise
pause here and colourize the pain
because soon I’m alighting
the lifting beams
glide down
siphon
into the overspill
beckoning the outlines
signals lull
flickers in a new time
contours
your grooves are filling up
an anaesthetic crush
and I draw out