Waiting on Spells

In the evening I laid down to

tell you there were spaces missing
it was as if the magic I had used to draw you in
had escaped into someone’s rabbit hat

You assured me I still had spells in my pocket
and I promised you I would cast these in time
if it meant that capturing the moon
would make you forget about our bodies
and the way they suffocate
in the white heat of our linen sheets

You gaze at streetlights outside our window
and I pretend to listen to wind
coming through lace curtains that touch our floor
It appears that we will welcome any witness
to guess at charades and mysteries
we will never solve

I don’t know what can save us
from ourselves or the weight of these words
walking in my journal
this escape is no longer curing
our lonely disease

So tomorrow I will drop rocks in water
and predict sounds they will throw to muddy banks
I will begin to find comfort
in the way rings descend out into sand
and once these prayers reach the shore
I will find you waiting