to burn brilliantly

to come up so suddenly out of a haze
that has lingered over months
and shared beds and inadequacies,
steaming tea pots and lonely sheets
and into a year
things are almost too bright and too clear
i am not here
i am light, i am ten, twenty feet above everything
my skin has history
it is history
these fingers are spinning lines
casting towards forever
and i find rest in restlessness
and knowing
uncertainty will always be unwound