With each word they tighten their fetters letters
and lengthen their chains. She swipes the notes he sends her, center
locked in shining sheets, somehow there here,
yet always beyond reach. Still she waits making
with open hands, catching coin, never knowing love
the lips from which each leaf is torn – from
still, she prays, where spaces stood, his letters stand – unspanned
still, where once he stood, she withstands grief seas,
like pennies pounded thin, like thieving sewing
hands and mouths mutely confessing subtlety
that most essential crime – the sin into
of lettering love. Even us judges then thin
cannot set them free. sheets.