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 blowing
the lips from which each leaf is torn – horns,
still, she prays, where spaces stood, his letters stand – fanning
still, where once he stood, she withstands grief leaves,
like pennies pounded thin, like thieving leaving
hands and mouths mutely confessing confetti
that most essential crime – the sin in
of lettering love. Even us judges then the
cannot set them free. streets.