Sonnet XXIV

It seems to me that we talk across a great distance,

Like a wide gap in the earth,

Or a span of nothing but nothing,

Or days and months and years of time.

And I am ashamed to admit this,

But I don't remember your face,

Or your voice,

Or your laughter.

So it seems we talk in shadows of shadows,

As if we were trying to speak in silence,

Or see in pitch darkness,

Or touch, only, with letters on a screen.

I remember you, but only in broad swaths of ideas,

A quickening of the pulse, an easy smile, a warm hand...