you hold words from the page breaking them in half in thirds, in fourths, you use them up in the air like fourth-of-july sparklers orange white against the night you use words to seduce to move your tongue on your lips to press your lips into me like time passed over for memories of pages white and black against the darker night here, we are in daylight, here, you read to me, and what I hear leaves me filled with spaces like clam shells filtering for more.