Now I am supposed to grip your hand back
Otherwise you’ll try checking my pulse
Be alive. Stay present.
I was supposed to lean against you
but splashed Slurpee in your frozen lap and now you’re bluish
How long was I squeezing your hand?
Like a doula, you let me realize when the nerves were gone
And simply didn’t call me again.
resistance is futile.
thinking of us daily
prepared you for me
since before you’d heard
of resistance.
and still
you have wanted it.
In bed without solace of rest
Each sand of the day falling
In poring over the text of ages.
Like bed-light under comforter
Many moons ago.
Still a similar warmth of spirit
And text of ages in hand:
A letter.
From father to long lost love
Not mother.
Proof of an everlasting trial.
Secrecy by the fault lines
Which brought forth death
In the form of children.
A text for the ages.
