“Let me go.”

I say this to him, in that moment when he turns his head, that move he makes, when he reaches for his burning cigarette. I say it when he’s about to make his usual proclamation, “This conversation is over”. But I beat him to it, I really did get my words in edgewise.

In that pattern,
In the rings of Saturn,
I get lost in whorls,
Of spatial words.

But this time a thread snaps. He freezes, tilting his ear, like a dog searching for a strange sound. He regains his composure, cigarette in hand, “Say that again?” A dare. I don’t have it in me to repeat myself; It only trips me up and over his falls.

The second time around,
I chase a lost sound,
Swirling in every pound,
Of my beating heart.

But I’m aboard my ship, I have dreams I need to float upon; Saturn isn’t that far away. His head is still turned, and I realize I’ve been drowning in his shallow eyes for far too long. I navigate my ship of simple words deep down into his waxy canal, towards his drum and selective nerve.

“You heard me.”