I wrote down your names on paper scraps

and still felt none the wiser.

Like a child, I wait

for the better day

they promised me.

.

The Future is a fever dream,

a majesty, the Sweet Supreme:

and we’ve endured in silence,

trudging heavenward

to salvage what we may.

.

If longing was water, I’d be the ocean

and each day is one closer

to the melting of the polar caps.