is it the light that rattles
the little air inside my lungs
when you peer underneath the table at dog
and i can look at you long, unwavering, without you
knowing? i can think of no other
explanation for that breathless hunger.
i watch where your hair
shifts against your ear. when you turn
back with a joke and a grimace,
a pocket of shadow where a dimple
sprouts. when we go, you gasp,
look at the stars!

we stop for a moment
to find ourselves small
among the same world
we woke up to. i say, can you see
the milky way? and you wait
for your eyes to adjust, the quiet
blanketing between us.
you say, yes.
we are waiting for the light to reach us.
or maybe the stars themselves have waited,
all this time, all those miles
to grasp us in their timeworn
hands.

[Editor’s Note: Publication of this poem was made possible by a gift from J. C. Pillard during our annual Kickstarter.]