by Maddison Colvin
I wake up in morning light
stretching, luxuriant,
feeling as though my limbs could reach
through my window,
through the city,
over seas,
around the ends of the earth
and in the antipodes
find each other softly.
I stretch farther
and grow paper-thin.
Without you there
to form a ring around me—
circumscribing the hollow of my back—
my shoulders, waist—
framing my body’s margins—
now, alone and ill-defined, I fade—
borderless against the sheets.
