It's exhausting, to effect change
with every action. To endure

such disorder to claim one truth—
only to find your search sparked

the tide that toppled truth's buttress.
Intimacy may be viscous enough to dam

the ache to share your consciousness.
It may gain thrust to span that ache.

You'll never be certain of both.
You see? You obtain only one

measure of certainty. Now tell me—
which lack are you willing to live with?

  • One of my writerly obsessions is the impossibility of sharing your consciousness with another human. Writing about that topic, too, feels impossible, but I keep searching for new avenues. This is one.
  • This poem was first published in Analog Science Fiction & Fact.