Dearest, what happens to words that drop between us
like dust to build a hill; the curves and loops of letters that
travel to my throat to stifle me into silence, breathlessness.
I emerge from the lake, clear the algae that fall over my eyes,
but find you have turned away. And the sand has wiped my name:
kisses and caresses went to print my name there in you.
I hold the emptiness in my palms, hollow of words take the
shape of pain. I hold your name in my mouth, roll it in my tongue,
let love soak through my bones as I rebuild you breath by breath.