It comes to the point where -
I don't know how to say anything that hasn't already
circled in and through and back again and tightened me
within my own words
until I start to think that choking is just
another way to be numb.
I rub water and mineral onto my hands
and wonder if I have unlearned, know how to
unlearn, know only that
whatever I imagine will not
come to pass - perhaps the sword instead,
or the wound, or
nothing at all.
I do not think that you have unlearned.