She sends me words in a brown envelope
handwritten, smooth cursive strokes that lean
left to right

They whisper to me from my nightstand
begging to be read and reread
insistent and tireless.

A song stuck in my head,
splinter in my open palm.



I wait on the shore for your boat,
Without your arms 'round me, I can scarcely breathe
Come, come carry me away,
else I will fade into the sand.
A relic, an empty shell.




What answer would you have,
if you could answer at all?