Shantih Journal 2.1 - Page 19

Our bodies trace the sound of a shape I eye your spine rising from your legs through your shoulders to your lobe The axis of you twists in the cursive of us We ascend and descend and blend our misspellings to form our own small word The word that changes everything and its own meaning to find what it means I did not know how these words would rest in between spaces like anti- matter giving things their shape the same words that hide in the threads of e-mail disguised in the tangled lines of memos lying broken at our fing- ers like fallen leaves scattered on the ground kindling in the wind 19