Scabs (tanka)

Why so many scabs?
She asks, unsure of my face.
I have been in love,
I say, dark, backlit by sun.
She morphs into a cloudlet.

What I’m Reading:

“In the evenings, we read novels in separate rooms
or in the same room and it makes no difference,
a compression that would interest me if it were someone else’s loneliness…”

— Elisa Gonzalez / “Grand Tour of Our Disintegration”