not enough
I am the air
strumming the cilia of your inner ear
metallic pulsing treble
in what you called silence
I am the oil
pumped from the earth
cracked and polymerised
wrapped around this ink
the tree
pulped into this surface
I am the ore
and the axes
and the miners
and the spoon left in a bowl on the carpet
I am the keratin clippings
crawling with bacteria
(which I also am)
on the bathroom floor
the wet fur
on a half-cleaned paw
the fingers
that prodded and caressed
the soft parts of bodies
I am the sugar pea shoots
and the dirt
and the oozing of worms
and the sunshine
I am not enough
enough is the end
I am not enough
when there is so much beyond
that I am also, there is you
all the yous
without whom
how can I be enough?
enough not
I am
this moment
enough is what I am
not
and am
only
with
all of the not I
aliving without thresholds
there is no I in enough
but there is one hug