I am glad if I can type zeros
Zeros of the world punch holes in the page.
Put away chairs in an emptying auditorium.
Make a space. When I can widen the gap between us
(the gasp between us) I am glad. I am glad to rip
the poem in half. Collapsed between light & night
a zero is rising. The mark of the zero on your cheek,
sub-wake, sub-sleep. Somewhere between fuck & luck
the zero on your mouth before you say away
or stray. Draw a straight line and think it through.
Draw a lake and think it blue. I think I think I think
I feel the zero at the bone. I think I lost you.
Counting backward on the pillow again
the wake of white space, the every,