We slept. We tried to sleep.
The day crawled over us

with the barely perceptible
strumming of insect legs.

The rain slipped into a mist.
Gutters swallowed softly.

The sheets stirred between us.
Phones rang in the distance.

People talked outside and I wondered
what could be worthy of words?

I woke once and held your face,
your half-moon lids licked shut,

your mouth a perfectly quartered fig,
pursed and impossibly bright.

Through a crack in your lips,
a steady hum of breath.

Through the crack in the window,
the sweetest breeze.

Air, the thin linen between worlds,
wrapped itself around our bodies,

a living thing. Tangled together,
we met in the same dream.

We looked for John, called his name.
Your map crumbled into dust,

so I searched for a compass
to find my way through the night.