Poem: Contact

I remember the moment the world stopped,
enunciated by a final tick and the first
long gasp of silence

How we lay together
as our planet paused thoughtfully
marveling at its quiet; not so much as a cricket’s song
to share our whispering.

For years the world stayed this way
and we grew pale from holding one another;
unable to come any closer but content
even as the world outside began to wither.

The air grew cold, and the ground
hard, and the leaves fell early in winter.
Even when spring came, still they remained
listless and piled upon the ground.

Out front, our sycamores held mangled limbs
toward a sunrise that would never break, and I remember too
how your breath would sometimes whistle
like a winter breeze through their stiff branches.