you can let the paint chip darling

you can let the paint chip darling.
you can let it run down. you should mark
the seconds passed between our breaths.
you should mark the space between the clouds,
last impressions of the exhale,
in the dim before the pipes can wrack
and warm our weary lips.
you can let the shoulder fall
you can let your heart slip out the sleeve. you
can let the words
drag down,
pull our lungs out,
splatter the rug;
are you there — will you be —
when did all the clocks turn away?
why ever ask the earth to buoy up
and not the air to bury all our arms,
reaching out a cross and missing — missing,
missing, missing.