Every day
I look up at you
and I’m looking across
a barrier. This happens
in silent,
sideways moments.
It’s always casual.
And every day,
I think about crossing it.

I know I won’t.
And I doubt that you will.
It’s better for you over there,
and better for me over here—
More peaceful,
more clean,
more rational.

But still,
there’s this tension,
this sightless tremor
in the stillness of my face,
this dark, warm overlap
of two deep, secret pools.

Every day
you touch me
and we’re reaching across
the barrier;
and I wonder, just for a moment,
if I allowed myself
to unravel my heart in your tangles
to plunge into your depths
to drink of your thirst,
what sweet, consuming bliss
would destroy me.