by Ann Walters
Thin is the strand between us; pinch of skin, voice in the dark.
Elastic bands stretchpullsnap pop cadences pop.
Curl up into the inner ear and shimmy there,
your silver whisper forking from my tongue.
Thin is the strand between us, a holding-on I never expected.
We cannot turn away, turn over, turn under.
Turn inward. Facing mirrored selves seems easy
until you ask who is illusion, who, truth.
Thin is the strand between us – invisible, invincible rope burns.
Cut and run. Dive, hop, scramble, fly.
Careen into silence. Obliviate connection.
Go ahead, try and kiss this umbilicus so long. So, so long.
Thin is the strand between us. Thick the diatom that makes us whole.