After the rest,
when the “all else” already fails
as has been proven before,
there’s only a greater fathom still unfathomed,
the depth an augmentation of a lack of reflection
for having never been invited to respective homes.
And in rest,
when the drinks are emptied out
and the masks recede for the night,
we’ve yet to reckon with what caused smashed plates,
the metaphorical we hurled into the physical
while coming undone in plain view.