Dreamt of you and woke
dreaming of you. So new
window, illusory casement
that I've somehow made up
from kisses and constituent stubble-burn
ravaged my lips and chin
all night and into the next day
waning red. I know you said
nothing.
I've never loved communication
so much—kept the photos
saved them in a folder on the desktop.
I know what being enshrined is like
and miss the shrine.
