Below I wonder who’s fallen in love-
who lies across from, under, alongside
who lies on the floor, considering warmth, stayed and practiced
Why is it that I can’t think my hand into movement?
sigh, hope, movement
The last chord in a thickening love song –
The tone that rings out when you long
as hollow and as cold and as stark
as the moment you realized there would be
no more
when is it, really, that you die?
a collection of poems and thoughts 