In the Between

It is in the darkness of window panes
stopping the bleed of night time
into blank white spaces. We have been

holding our palms up to the rained sky
like it might nail us into the earth. There
are the spaces in between, the air settling in
cracks of clasped hands. I am

standing on ceilings upside down, perfectly
aligned with eyes and noses but we are not
seen the way Joe at the office snaps his fingers
and the heads jerk up and bounce. They
are kisses against the edges of our skin like we

are untouchable because there is no umbrella
to hide under and the shards of our anger
are pinning toes into soaked soil.