"Practice holding your hand apologizing
to whisper, a crease, and paper, a partial figure in drawing.
What drifted from us, bodies once beloved adorned now
soft, coal, remote eyes we could not accept.
If it is cold inside your house it
is not cold inside your body.
We spoke as if wading through a barren field, a fireplace dark
with ash, folding a blanket near the surface of the sea,
and lacing your garments as if this would permit access
to that which animates winged instruments within."