Body of Distance

Over the expanse of sixty-seven days, one
ocean, two continents, he writes,

The honeysuckle dropped petals ran
on a strong wind, already the ground

cracks from lack of rain. I have lain
with your hands all morning.

Outside my breaking window a policeman
dances with his billy club, a sparrow lands

on the piss-pooled sidewalk; the shadow of
an unloved man hangs in the folds of my skirt.