i am gone from this chair. all that is left is my jam. i am hidden.
not the imprint of my soul, nor the warm breath of a chair still heavy from the weight of someone else.
just the iron, imprinted on the board.
permanent & hidden. and me.
i am the knitted knot of space
the breath closed about in the knit, the knotted, the hidden, the done and the forever not, the small strand of what it once was is hidden, in what it is now.