We had to start from where our parents put us
Until we met in the lists of coming and going.

Where do they begin, attractions, pity,
And when they’re finished, where do they go?

Like water that cupped hands cannot hold,
We passed through each other, we changed, sometimes

We even disappeared, flowing off elsewhere,
Sucked into porous distances, making gaps

That were wider than geography,
Dried up in the sun of consuming loves.

Walking together through spaces other people have filled,
Our edges become hot in the air remembering them.