You bent down to pull a stubborn lace

You bent down to pull a stubborn lace,

and the collar of your shirt fell away.

I saw that dip, that hollowed-out space

where the shadows of the morning stay.

It reminded me of a ceramic bowl

with a jagged chip out of the side,

waiting for someone to play the role

of the water that has nowhere to hide.

I almost reached out to touch the ridge,

the fragile architecture of your frame,

but I stayed on my side of the bridge

and forgot how to speak your name.