DISTANCE

I wake up alone 
to the sound of the city 
sirens and think of home. 
Of the quiet. 
                        Of that night 
we jumped the fence 
to the plum-orchard. 
How the sun lingered 
on the cusps of clouds 
and the locusts hummed 
with the thrum of our pulses. 
How our lungs heaved 
the heavy air. 
How I wanted you 
to the point of frenzy: 
soiled fruit falling 
from my shaking hands. 
                        ​Of your arm slung 
around me as we walked.
How I laid my head 
on your hip, your hand
in my hair, my fingertips 
tracing your palm, your calluses
rimmed with rust,

now so much like us.