unplanting weeds

I should find you here
whispering in the layer behind what's audible
and glowing softly in the shades of gray of a shadowed white wall

I am made of such mortal stuff though
not divine enough to create discord with the thick,
opaque,
extent
of my humanness

so long is the row of weeds planted
and so far tossed the God-bit i was given

i cannot guess

when it will come back down