entry

have recently gotten into reading your words
like they were letters, you write to fill me in
on your day, how you are, the edges of space
between we find comfort in, keeping distance
measured, exact, the continents in their place,
checking for small earthquakes, keeping still
as solid rock, your words, when beneath they
are liquid fire, relentless, roiling. and printing
them, in larger font for easy reading this time,
so i can carefully fold them up and keep them
in a box, maybe tuck in a shirt pocket for luck,
a charm, a paper amulet against the elements:
too much rain or sun seeping into my chest
can easily stunt the sapling heart, you know
how crazy the weather can be, this country. or
have you forgotten, when temperatures drop
to nothing, you pile on your jackets against
such sentiment, the snow, and work without
dreaming of warmer days and streets, sudden
rain, me, or anything to keep the cold from
burrowing into the marrows of your bones,
the words you bleed and update everything
you left with. faithfully, i hold them closer
and feel every letter, punctuation and space
collapse from weight and the rocking beats
and beneath the debris, the liquid core of
things unfold and flow through the cracked
skin, something gradually....................... wilt.
as you tiredly tap away at the keys, i hear
you play a secret song. each breaking beat
for me, alone when really the whole world
tunes in, friends and sad strangers and the
wife back home storing away the groceries
and logging in, longingly, to this electronic
......humming.