Parley
Do you hear wisps of sound?
It might be carpenter ants
in the beams or maybe we’re just
not getting enough sleep, not
getting enough air, judging
from the yawn-triggered yawns,
the nervous assemblies of words,
the way we’re folding sentences
into a conversation shaped
like an origami duck.
And while we’re chatting about how the moon
devises shorelines, do you notice the undertow
of kisses forming, notice we’re standing
this close, our hands curled up together
like a couple of cats?