You arrive without announcement,

the way grief does,

the way grace does —

a darkening at the edge of things,

then everywhere at once.

I have stood in you

and let you ruin me gently.

There is an honesty to cold water

that sun will never manage.

The window knows you best —

glass as go-between,

your fingers tracing something

I was almost brave enough to say.

Stay a little longer.

The world is cleaner

when you're in it.

And after, that smell —

earth remembering

it was always waiting

to be opened.