I love you in zeroes and ones carried across
the thousands of miles of cable that link us.
You understand what separates the laws
of physics from those of poetry, that the former
one obeys and the latter one commands. How else
to explain what passes between us? My phone buzzes
and it’s you, texting about a biopsy; another day, I
share a depression. With a few taps of the finger, we are consoled.
We do not differentiate a kiss from an embrace, from a poem,
from an emoji, my friend. Love follows no rules save those set
by her practitioners. If tomorrow we declare a brand-new world,
no one can stop us. The change will be heralded by a banal
notification on my phone; for a moment only we
out of eight-billion souls will see the perfect beauty
once lost in the dizziness of our spinning, unjust planet.
I prefer to make this our secret, though:
let the awareness of what can be animate what is,
the way dreams disappoint, yet sometimes I remember
enough to text you what the future will look like.