You and I?
We've gone all this distance
 in yardage, in years. And still our bed widens.
 
Consider,
distance is also a verb:
We distance ourselves from each other.
 
We grow apart.
A true contradiction:
Grow means to flourish. You and I diminish apart.
 
When did I write those words? A thousand years ago?
What continental divide once separated us?
When did we defy geography?
 
Today, just the thought of living without you
startles like the sight of a car crash,
jostles me awake at night.
 
The sidewalk narrows, I draw close,
Press my breast into your elbow
as we cross against the light.

© by Diana Anhalt.
Used with the author's permission.