I fold myself into the silence of your
arrival. The blurred mirror
of your name accelerates in me
the evidence of this body
in which I persist.
You make me dense, organic,
compact around the intense absurdity
of imagining our reciprocal
downfall.
Because I feel I’m already walking on air,
every step is further away,
waiting for you to rise, for you to feel me
a hair’s breadth away from you, fallen at last
as a consequence of surrender.
Between us and the world
is a far
cry.