after Martín Espada’s “The Monsters at the Edge of the World”
 

At the core of our text messages 

lies a study of two lovers

screaming in the present tense

at the people they no longer are.

We know now so little

of one another, yet here we are

insisting, declaring

until one of us snaps, says Oh, yeah?

as if saying Fuck it, as if saying I’m going to cover my heart

and open my mouth and at no time

will we mention that six months ago

we stood together on tin bleachers

in the pouring rain

watching our daughter get her diploma,

her mortarboard soaked & bent to her ears.

Our eyes catching, if briefly,

between the lightning and the thunder.