Quiet anticipation
Lessens the grip on organs
I feel like water
poured into my shoes

...like the waist of an hourglass,
endlessly passed through and passed through...

(kudos to Deborah Garrison)

It's all the little, intangible nothings
you do and don't do
absences and voids
that speak volumes

A postcard
A song (though never about me, which is fine)
A call into the darkness of fallen night
and then, the promise of more

it will never be as fluttering as it is right now
but I will take it, whatever it is
so that my words will not return void

My friend, I thank you.