With each word they tighten their fetters letters
and lengthen their chains. She swipes the notes he sends her, enter
locked in shining sheets, somehow there the
yet always beyond reach. Still she waits gate,
with open hands, catching coin, never knowing stoking
the lips from which each leaf is torn – moans,
still, she prays, where spaces stood, his letters stand – pants,
still, where once he stood, she withstands grief pleas,
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 their
cannot set them free. sleeves.