| less than a year together | he’s first to wake up |
| early on a cold morning, | blankets bunched on her side |
| the house hums | a low, steady tune. |
| the world is calm | enough to notice something |
| small like the warm pocket | of air pulsing |
| between them. it feels | to him like a mercy |
| like a confirmation | of what, he won’t be sure until |
| years later, looking back, | he inches closer, |
| not touching her, | allowing that space to swell— |
| the idea of some future | happiness, maybe, |
| nurtured |
- This is my attempt to write a triptych after Jamaal May's I Do Have a Seam. You should read it the way Jamaal reads his poem: left column only, right column only, across both columns.
- This poem was first published in Burlesque Press.