There’s little difference between two people in love

who share the same axis, who are always

around and between each other, without speaking.

Saying I miss you is like being in two places at once.


Non-unique, antisymmetric as a pair of fermions

in the morning their love is breakfast

spinning into the day on the cold-footed tile

from table to fridge, couch to countertop.


Wave functions like emptied egg cartons

yolk sitting fat as the sun upon your toast.

The standing wave of coffee at eight forty-five.

How fecund the weightless light through the blinds.


As you draw closer by the end of day

with bare, chilly legs interlocking

can you sense the valence of comfort

that behaves as if time were not watching?

R. Charboneau

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