Strawberry Seeds

Sometimes

it feels like nothing is here

nor there

or anywhere really

My hands are an elaborate illusion 

catered to disassemble all that they touch,

any fruitful relationships spat out like seeds

as cinders crumble through open fingers

All of it is in my blind spot

Everyone says to rise from the ashes

but I can't help burrowing myself under them,

taking my shoes off,

and making myself at home