the voices, they become
white noise. white smoke,
my wide eyes are
wandering again
in search of you
behind foggy windows and
along the lines where walls meet
ceilings. your shoulders,
they are too silent today--
I lose your blue-rimmed
certainty in the current.
do you hear me calling?
you begin to turn--
dark hair, sharp edges
but the voices become
miles
and we are lost.