to hold

By Carolyn Cheng ’24

a hand squeeze /
my palm contains the stars
 
in my bed against the wall
lacking one letter,
red thread tugs at a familiar ache
longing for a body to believe,
for consecrated hands and autumn jackets,
all the bouquets gathered from fallen leaves
miss the half
 
facing another ocean,
the moon raises bitten lips to a shared dream
whispered into the phone
 
morning,
 
my hands reach for ghost
fabric, your stray fibers
the twisting of threads,
these voices feeling blindly for a face to hold,
magic breathes from the moment I last fixed your collar
to the tender in my neck, neighbor to soft swelling
 
these stars, they only make themselves known
in the crumpling that is loving in the dark.