"Faces lit up by computer screens
as we tangle ourselves up in the sheets
pretending it’s each other’s limbs.
It’s 4am, now
and the sun will be rising
just as you’re watching it set.
I’m listening to songs that remind me of you
and you’re a million miles away
and I’ve never missed you more than I miss you now."
"This morning there’s snow everywhere. We remark on it.
You tell me you didn’t sleep well. I say
I didn’t either. You had a terrible night. “Me too.”
We’re extraordinarily calm and tender with each other
as if sensing the other’s rickety state of mind.
As if we knew what the other was feeling. We don’t,
of course. We never do. No matter.
It’s the tenderness I care about. That’s the gift
this morning that moves and holds me.
Same as every morning."