to their own solemnity, another’s lips
sip the freeing drafts of good, and are
once again wetted with a taste of new days.
I won’t just topple from this
tower of precarious teetering
when someone else is waiting
to drink what remains of
cold and distant promises.
Instead, you scope out my limits
and find them insufficient
to hold all that has yet to come. Trickle
And I become.