There’s one type of letter written over and over

Inside one of the fortune cookies delivered
to our table: “You have a yearning for perfection.”

It’s like that, like the dancers we saw onstage
taking turns, cradling each other’s heads

in their arms before pushing off again
or falling through space. But more than that,

it’s the longing for the once held
that still calls with such deep affection—

In some old plays, when the traveler turns
his sleeve inside out it means

he is still lost on some interminable journey.
Under the moon, the white moths are breathing;

we take off our shoes and socks
just to step on the grass.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Housekeeper.

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