April 28, 2011
.sweet beats baby,

I have unrolled a map
onto my kitchen table
and put one finger
where you are and
another where I am.

The space between
is only inches. That close,
I could feel you breathing.
I could reach out and
run my fingers through
every strand of your hair,
touch your lips and
barely need to move.

In the corner of the map
there is a guide for judging scale:
every inch a hundred miles
full of roads and rivers and trees,
the guide a sharp reminder
that you are where you are
and I am where I am,
inches apart.




This poem © Gabriel Gadfly.
This image © Alie Ward.
Courtesy of Dollface 7:04 PM April 28, 2011
0 comments
0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home