I can measure the time it takes
for a thought to reach your tongue
by the way it hits my ear. Your mouth
cradles the sound like my fingers
cradle yours. Intensely, magnetically,

I can spell you out—drip you onto pages
like writers block never existed. Heavily
inked words and textured paper—a spine
of electricity, bound comfortably and falling
open between my hands–
fingers grazing the edge of each page,
turning them with the same gentleness
that I would grasp the small of your back.

I look at you and I am calmed in a way
I don’t know—it is unfamiliar, yet comfortable.
Intense and yet accustomed—like I have seen
you day after day after day after…


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