Sometimes it is enough to be,
every word need not be a sigh.
When we are close our fingers
may not brush,
our lips may not touch.
I am an amulet sifted from your
grit of treasure where I have learned
In the innocent still of sleep I listen
for the frill of wings, birds scatter in
the hidden clearance.
I open the empty spaces of
veins to your shivering stream.