|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,|
- 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.