As we watch the clouds race over the mountain’s slow peak,
your hand finds my back
as if it’s been there before.
Hello, hand.
It finds the secret hollow beneath my rib
despite all this New England clothing.
Inside my chest, an alive thing stirs.
Hello, heart.
The moment lasts just a fraction of a second,
is so small that I draw it closer in to see it,
hold it so close
that I cannot see beyond it[1]
& it becomes a city of only.
Later, in some future,
I will miss that moment
& the people we were in it.
I will tell you that I’d like to return there,
if given the chance,
and you will tell me that we can.
We do,
using a map our future selves have made:
a tendril of sunlight &
the sound of just our breathing.
We travel back to then from now,
meet ourselves again
with all this love.
Hello.