After love
My body is like a country
After war

I touch your pictures on my phone like it were your skin. That’s a lie. I have no reverence for my phone. For you, there is all that – wonder and awe, trapped words and a choking that belies how deeply you move me.

I wake up hungry, not for food but for you. I scavenge the earth for words to feed and be fed. I’m a hunter gatherer of le mot juste – what will bring you closer, what will fill this belly of infinite desire.

I reach for you in the middle of the night in the middle of my sleep. I wax and wane in synchrony with your hair. You are the sun. I live. I am beaming. I am finally a sunflower.

War or no war,
there is no love like your love.