you are in the middle of things, insisting importance – you would feel shivering in the distant blue of another girdled spark and there, in the not-so-distant sky, I reach for damp perimeters
and have your face conclusive with whiteness, sure of its glare, crossing the frangipani outside my home; silence leapt borders and now an incident. uninterrupted. resolute. absolved.
although so suddenly moving away kiting around and perhaps death will deal its part when love’s done with its tedious labor – and it will all be
moments of bliss, two people renaming necessary haunts, laughing in the dense air, keeping an ear for the spring of yourself.