My heart/ is whatever temperature a heart is/ in a man who doesn't believe in heaven.
Here, when I say I never want to be without you,
somewhere else I am saying
I never want to be without you again. And when I touch you
in each of the places we meet,
in all of the lives we are, it's with hands that are dying
and resurrected.
When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life,
in each place and forever
Furiously and gorgeously write your ass off.
I will beg, will take to my knees, will listen to snow
stroking air, a sky of gasps, will open my mouth,
swallow, somewhere else the sky is falling,
somewhere else it gets back up.
The dead have no ears, no answering machines that we know of, still we call.