I sat at an old poet’s desk with blank paper in front of me
As she reread his text
It was as if we were whales in the dark
Singing above the telephone wires
And neither of us could feel the water around us

I sat at an old poet’s desk with blank paper in front of me
As she reread his text
Trying to coax flames from a lighter, sparks
To set everything in the world on fire
When it happens my palms will have been covered in dust

I sat at an old poet’s desk with blank paper in front of me
As she reread his text
She got up and went into the closet
When her phone rang she made it sound dire
I wasn’t good enough to be the supportive friend

Later, she asked how soundproof the wall was, I said I heard nothing
And she sighed with relief
But I had been staring at the ceiling
Listening to her crying quietly
And it was ironic, neither of us slept that night

I sit at an old poet’s desk with this paper in front of me
And I kind of want to die
Because the world is drifting apart
And the fractals are raining from the sky