by Rebecca Gaffron
We connected
more than words
reveal
loved, like an earthquake
sudden and shocking
rattling the little bits of nice
scattered on my windowsills,
rocking my entire structure.
I lived lifetimes
in moments of unknowing,
anticipating how landscapes
might shift,
settle
into something new,
before it was over
and he was gone
leaving nothing as proof,
just a few books
shaken off shelves,
but no real hint or clue
to affirm the depth of our affection.
Unless you count
cracks
in my concrete,
tiny lines spider-webbing
in elaborate patterns,
whispering his name.
And sometimes a tear
squeezes through my stone
like a weeping saint,
shimmering evidence that we
once wrapped in each other,
miraculous
like an earthquake with nothing broken
or love more than words.
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