To Sasha Stepanova
and Becky Ellis

Your phone never rings
because you made it a mute.

You know when you check
the messages, there will be none.

Or a rasped, echoed response
that commutes from a scream to a question.

If they only knew
that you need love like light—

If they only saw
that you are as full of love

as the air itself
is full of longing unseen—

Invisible and indivisible
you move in the rafters.

Their friendship, it flows
around you like rivers.

So you stand, your back full
of small sunning lizards,

with the stolid love
of a stone.