Making Sense

Hold that thought between
your lips. Let me trace its edges
with my tongue and tease out its intentions.

—–

In the hope of making sense
of your words left behind
the toaster and under the eraser
I try to remember
the gestures your fingers made
while your breath slid down along my neck.

—–

Will it matter now that the Eastern sky
is your new home and the winds of information
shield you from my words?

—–

To understand the difference between
your weakness and my need.
The cost is so high.
Who will pay for the renovation of this relationship?

——

I will look for a sign from tomorrow.
But tomorrow will soon become yesterday
and I will still be here counting the fallen letters,
watching the wind whip away the answers.

——

Tonight, I’ll walk to the river
and drown the silence
that hangs like a sword
between our eyes.

—–

The time has come to
remove the bookmark
and put this book back
on the bookshelf.