Tectonic

Something

shifted underneath before anyone felt the floor move

pressure

doesn't announce itself, it just accumulates,

proves

itself later,

in the cracks,

in the way the walls don't sit right

anymore

I didn't lose you all at once.

I lost you the way a plate grinds against a shore

Years of pressure

look like stillness from the surface

nothing seems to happen until suddenly the whole surface shifts,

the whole purpose

of the ground becomes uncertain,

becomes something that can break

grief doesn't announce

itself either. It just waits for the right fault line to make

Tectonic. Tectonic.

Everything moves too slow to see until it's already moved.

Tectonic. Tectonic. I am

still being shaped by a pressure I didn't

choose.