The night you called to tell me
that the unevenness between the days
is as simple as meeting or not meeting,
I was thinking about electricity -
how at no point on a circuit
can power diminish or accumulate,
how you also need a lack of balance
for energy to be released. Trust it.
Once, being held like that,
no edge, no end and no beginning,
I could not tell our actions apart:
if it was you who lifted my head to the light,
if it was I who said how much I wanted
to look at your face. Your beautiful face.
*Soundtrack to this poem (intersemiotic possibilities):
Anathema - Electricity