Eye contact.

When the fossils crystalize over the lake

then I'll know by your eyes.

When the forest is pollinated

then it will be apparent in the sting.

My eyes are watering, don't point it out.

It's a speck in my eye,

a bee sting,

my allergies.

When the gravity buries you

I'll open up your body like the blinds.

When the church burns down

I wonder if they'll keep the sign with black letters.

My mind is wandering.

It's a casual movement

tracing the outside of your face

never quite meeting your eyes.