echo viper
The Seam
I tuck the blanket until it creases your chin—
not for warmth
to pin the world in place
while you breathe.
The Ground
I swallow the flinch in my hands—
teeth locked,
the damage
buried here.
The Shell
I smooth tomorrow’s clothes on the chair—
sleeves emptied,
stiffening the mold
you’ll wake into.
prisma light