Thwing

When our hearts first recognized their match,
the knots in our stomachs slowly untied,
exposing the delicate threads of our being.

And as we spoke and we laughed and we loved,
those stray threads fused to one another,
connecting us across space and across time.

Sometimes, when we were apart,
I would twist my index finger
gently about the cord and pluck,
releasing a “thwing”, which
reverberated into the ether.


Over time, I learned to read the vibrations.

Distance was the easiest to determine.
Somehow, I could always tell
when you were in my city.

Less frequently, I could sense your energy.
When something big had shocked you or inspired you,
the line would quiver just differently enough.

I never could explain the phenomenon
and actually spent much of the time
doubting its very existence.


Now, though,
years after we last said goodbye,
I know that – whatever it was – it was real
because I can no longer sense you on the other end.

And the line,
long abandoned,
droops onward
to infinity.

How many tears were shed in anguish this day?

Oh, that they might make swell a salty sea to bear your ark gently unto a far better world.