after robin m. eames
i refuse to mourn you while you're still alive.
but today i don't know if when i tell you goodnight
it'll be for the last time, so: indulge me, love.
i would miss you like the ache of the ocean
between us. yesterday we joked about the transatlantic
cables that carry our voices to each other: milliseconds
of delay to deliver me your laugh, miraculous.
we talked about the deep-sea rift pushing us
apart. maybe when california hits japan,
it'll be faster to fly to you. but probably not.
if you died tonight, i would walk into the atlantic
as though she could swallow my grief. follow the
fiber-optic tightrope that connects us and dream
that at the end, i might still find you alive.