Questions

Steeped in the hours

 

we tiptoed through infinity

 

trying on each others' scars

 

as clumsy as me tripping

 

In my mother's too-big heels

 

bumbling in our infinity

 

we trip-toed through questions

 

we could never honestly answer

 

arms outstretched

 

the aftermath of a push

 

but always hoping for

 

the grasping

 

the answers in the inches

 

between us span the

 

unknowable

 

another dishonest question.