You’ve been skidding around me
for a few months.
Not enough for me to pull you
like a curtain, towards me,
but plenty to feel you are
tied to the piece of string around my neck
a noose of pirated thoughts,
just for you.
I’ve watched you in a clumsy
shamanic trance,
but it is not going to bring you closer.
Not if you keep slipping,
each stumble locking you
deeper and deeper into the ice.
Where I cannot go.
Valentina Cano
Belly Fat Magazine 