It is the static
< /br>between two stations:
< /br>that soft, unintelligible place
< /br>where our voices meet.
Between two stations
< /br>we stand, two sword-lengths apart.
< /br>Where our voices meet:
< /br>sparks and flashing metal.
We stand. Two sword-lengths apart,
< /br>our eyes meet, and there are
< /br>sparks. And flashing metal
< /br>rings are promises kept silent.
Our eyes meet, and there are
< /br>accusations hanging in the air. The void
< /br>rings. Are promises kept silent?
< /br>You are a language I've forgotten.
Accusations hanging in the air, the void
< /br>is asking who is more afraid.
< /br>You are. A language I've forgotten
< /br>slips off my tongue, all apologies.
Is asking who is more afraid
< /br>irrelevant now? The question
< /br>slips off my tongue. All apologies
< /br>end like this.
Irrelevant now, the question
< /br>melts away. Like always, in the
< /br>end. Like this:
< /br>Under each word, only "love".
Melts away, like "always" in the
< /br>letters I never meant to send.
< /br>Under each word: "Only love
< /br>confuses me this thoroughly."
Letters I never meant to send,
< /br>strewn across your living-room floor.
< /br>Confuses me, this. Thoroughly.
< /br>This is what love sounds like?
Strewn across your living-room floor
< /br>(that soft, unintelligible place).
< /br>This is what love sounds like--
< /br>It is the static.
a pantoum