w a r m

04.06.02 |

For moments unspeakable, beyond words
I can name you only by your
First name

When the moments are bigger than our grasp
much larger than the scales
with which we are familiar:
lands, seas, mountains, deserts, grains of rice,
even rows in fields and at all times of the day–the sky
We combat it with silence.
Silence so deafening that it hushes
the children on the street.
Even the cars slow and take the corner softer
than they would have before.
We dampen the air with stares
and touches,
with exhales
and with water in our eyes
of joy.

For moments unspeakable, beyond words,
I can name you only by your first name and
the word: w-a-r-m

When I am empty, single in the bed,
standing with all the proper clothing to keep me from snow.
You are what I lack.

Like sitting in front of an open fire with my face glowing
and pants and shirt minutes away from becoming flame…
the soles of my shoes surely melting.
And then the withdrawing to tent
to house, to room, to stream…
and the coldness of where the light has not been.
My backside, the hollows in the back of my knees,
the back of the neck,
even my heels, if possible.

You are that warmth.

My cheeks blistery and wind-blown,
the melting of frozen hands after a snowball fight
or the cleaning of iced-over windshields…
the climbing under the blankets in the dead of winter
a sweatshirt fresh from the dryer…


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