by Lisa Walsh

This night I seek your listening.

The insomnia of my fingertips,

write my words in longing call

for your ears and thoughts.

This night I reach alone for arms to hold mine

and crawl with me into empty corridors of time.

This night I seek your gentle touch

to draw me out of winter’s lonesome frost.

This night I ask shadows to reveal themselves

amidst the fear breeding in the air.

This night I call out to all the homes

of distant souls who want to hear.

This night I chisel away at walls standing over me

and deposit a piece of myself in your world-

and are you ready?