A figure of authority said,
"Speak to a lack,
a crack in the future;
what might happen when the essential
becomes somehow expendable,"
(and of course I'm paraphrasing;
one cannot expect honesty from a known liar--)
and all I could think of was:
Fruit never bursts
beneath my teeth as satisfyingly as
the poison berries that
sprung!--from the ground near your house,
exploded under my fingers when I sat there, right there.
I plucked them from the grass and
pushed until they broke and
the whole time I thought of you.
As I write this I am thinking of you.
How quickly we became
essential to one another and
how quickly I became
expendable!—there is no temporal measure.
If there is a future without you I do not want it.
If I knew you then, I would miss:
the shape of your nostrils and
the color of your eyes and
the way your hands touch me.
A world without you is not a world I want.
I am you and
you are me and
we are the same and so
a world without you is not a world which can house me.
I'm not quite playing by the book; I digress.
In a world without her, we would miss:
the way her hands move when she talks.
A world without her would move
slowly, like the world now moves
slowly, but as the world turned
slowly it would be aware of the loss,
its load lighter but its heart heavier.