This has been your identity –
a cheekbone that shivers;
an apple white morning;
bits of bluebird gone to bones.
Accidental events tend to write
love letters that begin withyou left me with the light
glued to my own evil.
Is it any wonder we invented
return mail? The last question
What does not love, possesses.
But we pretend what moved the arm
was the wire; pretend what loves us,
loves us. And the nausea that jerks
like a chilled hand under warm water
Lili and Lawrence Leader-Williams are married and live in Washington State with their two cats. They love coffee, disagreeing with each other's politics, and a proper wind storm. This is their first attempt at publication together.