On a night so deep you can taste it,

I read your letter, aloud.

Quietly.

Uneasily.

But I can’t make sense of the words.

As if somewhere,

between the page and my eyes,

they gave up the ghost.

Lost all meaning –

jettisoned any sense they might once have had,

on the journey to my brain.

The implausibility of your logic marooned on the way.

I hurt.

But is that you hurting me?

Or me hurting you?

Nerves stand naked and restless,

quivering outside my body,

anticipating the last line.

The final word.

Over.

2023