I remembered you in that moment,
Staring for no adequate reason across rocks and loose binding meanings.
Holding strings of touch and taste together,
Kicking dust and watching clouds resultant.
Eventually I began to walk.
I swung my arms in light syncopation,
And I saw my motion begin.
It seems staggered somehow, spread out in time,
And then I got distracted by your ribs.
For they were there, partially exposed,
In the middle of the desert and nowhere near your side.
I knelt, inquiry on my mind –
Thinking a frown, though not wasting the energy of producing one
I reached for my feather duster as I looked closer still,
Squinting into the haze.
And then, just like old times,
I began gently touching you up.
Hours of painstaking poking with the sun
Making hotness out of shades of boredom,
Imagery, illusion and my mouth was dry and pealing
And I was slowly spooning you out of the ground.
And you were coming to me.
In framework form, you were coming.
You were a skeleton of a human structure.
You were a skeleton.
And finally I stood back and panted.
It seems that you were buried in the ground.
It seems I dug you up.
I discovered you, after you had died.
It seems that I recovered you.