Craig Arnold


On the fire escape of your rental room
we sat and felt the empty city
sweat and fret      we passed a cigarette
back and forth      as once we passed
words like these between us   without
hope of keeping
                          Now I write
without hope of answer    to say
that what we gave each other nakedly
was too much and not enough
to say that since we last touched
I am not empty      I hear you named
and my heart starts the pieces of your voice
you left     are interleaved with mine
and to this quick spark in the emptiness
to say Yes    I miss how love
may make us otherwise