these things

these things

i stand on the other side of this wall

i built between us like a tomb

brick by brick unconsciously mortaring you

and the possibility of you over there

and stand with these things

i can no longer say or share

as if they do not exist in my palms

itching to hold these things against your skin

i have reduced myself to masonry

that walls off these things that matter most

and i grow terrified of walls with no exits

silently mocking me for my carelessness

•

i have friends who wear cellophane

like Halloween masks

and there is nothing more frightening

than these things transparent

telling me with their faces every time

i conjure clear catastrophe

•

& if you could

if you would. . .

we meet in the first days of fall

winds rising & the chill of autumn

engulfing us like memories & hope

until our skin is cooled around our longing

& then you slip your hand into mine

cold fingers intertwined & clutching

until you pull against our walking

& at the pause your cold nose & lips

reach up to mine & press you against me

“it’s been so long since i’ve kissed you”

& these things awaken the joy of this possibility