Six A.M., an hour after five when
the cat began to whine and
I awoke upon the dark. Scan
the walls for the boundaries-
Hold me please. I wish you were here.

I suppose you might be here,
But, since I don't know who you are
what difference does it make?

Six AM plus fourteen to the minute
I imagine your hand but your touch isn't in it.
Is love always such a catastrophe?

It is twenty minutes after Six A.M.
An hour until the time when
all of these thoughts mean nothing
because they have no place in time-
just like you and I.