newton's cradle
There’s people
I have loved
Still love, even
Letters stop
Care packets thin
Almost to nothing too
And yet
I still remember loving.
Frantic in love,
the desperate loving of
a broken fast, a cup,
ginger, sharp-sweet,
like being small and trying
to read as much as possible
before the light—
I’d have another prism if you’re asking;
Without refractions, though,
Or I’ll be up all night.
