yesterday i fainted while walking home from the bus

the thread from my wrist into space

to you

siphoning circulation into a single red point

until i fell

tunnel-vision face

first into cement before children and cars

and you weren't there

and the other threads snapped

and i can't remember where to find the ends

does it make you sad?

when you can't catch the eight year old girl

you think you should have known

(small)

red thread stitches

a patch in the lining of every letter

we don't

have to have everything in common

though the title says twins

genetic

or imagined

and i promised