Joint

Your essence is on point;

a joint I’d run with, present.

Whose presence I’d cherish,

twist round and round, perish

in my hands, between fingers,

enabling an abled-bodied dance.

I’d seen it burn, swell in smoke.

Heard it scratch, mixed with the

records of reality I had built

around me,

that you found, see?

Opened up entirely, lock and key.