at the bottom of stairs I am waiting big stupid grin splayed across face it’s your lunch break (or the end of an early day) a bouquet of flowers crooked against my forearm or a tiny flower that fits in my palm (no one is really sure) and you heading my way wearing smile that could stop or start a war (gliding through automatic doors) a tear perhaps? (pausing on your cheek) (snagged in your throat) a breath I believe
you are among your workmates (but they the impossible to see) I am snatching air
and the noise of the world lulls it to sleep and
you and me
: the extent of awake the extent of alive the only thing that survived
you place your hand in mine (mind) like key sucking lock and we twist and
open (while the world has stopped) and we are smiling smiling and you
have my eyes and always will (my word) and we are smiling smiling (my god)
this is light refracting (missiles landing) and I feed on your breath and the smell
of your skin knowing tomorrow on your memory
I will be starving.