wb :

different when we get back, the product of
breathing the air on opposite sides of a continent
mountains between us,

miles of wire between us
so that we can share the electricity of our existence
but the touch is lost
its insulating quality that keeps us from being reduced to electrons in a pipe

oxidation is loss. we'll be
spirits lost on a wire
we'll drift between packets and protocols
we'll dissociate our feelings
immune to grief, we smile our
electronic smiles.

II.

we'll be
afraid at the last juncture
before the point of divergence; taking our trajectories
to different coloured skies

the last brush of
fingernails palm sweat
evaporating on my forearm

tomorrow it will dry
memories are anhydrous
but tears are not.

III.

we'll be
waiting for the crossroads
not divergent yet; our footsteps still
in rhythm with the drummer
that is our sycopated
heart-beats but yet -
touches cold we fear the coda

IV.

we are
silent, sitting on a bench
no pain yet - but our eyes glow
like the stars we are,
we are, we are, we are.

Labels: poetry