I want you, tapped to the green throb of a screen
late at night where we lie stultified.
These heavy heartbeats keep time
with our frozen dinner fatigue, our potato lust –

I miss you, thinking of your tongue
on my daily walk, prayers at the altar
of a tree-lined church. Swans bear
feathered witness to my dirty thoughts.

You can’t see my unwashed hair,
my extra-large t-shirt; the perfume I dab
at my wrists like I’m mopping up blood
after cutting myself with your scent.

When I breathe, I breathe you in.
And this is how I imagine you: naked,
golden in the dawn light, one arm
scooping me to you like water.