She looks at Facebook, checks.
And reads almost every hour.
But there’s nothing there anymore.
Just the silence.
No words, no messages.
For a while, she wrote; he wrote.
How they laughed,
Exchanging love or near love.
It was a calling from the past,
A different century
When she was too young.
He was too old, much too old.
Or was SHE too old?
To which hand were the stars pointing?
People are the words they speak.
They pronounce them
On their tongue, trippingly.
They sing their memories to the dark
And share them with space,
The night falling.
They’re both sleeping alone
Staring at their screens.
There, did you hear that ping?
Tonight it’s like she’s waiting
for a celestial sign,
Or the turning of the universe.
She’s counting all her blessings,
And the wishes she made,
Spread evenly, high above the moon.