With each word they tighten their fetters letters
and lengthen their chains. She swipes the notes he sends her, splinter
locked in shining sheets, somehow there here,
yet always beyond reach. Still she waits pained,
with open hands, catching coin, never knowing lowly,
the lips from which each leaf is torn – forming
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 leaving
hands and mouths mutely confessing confetti
that most essential crime – the sin on
of lettering love. Even us judges then thin
cannot set them free. sheets.