Juniper White: The Distance Between Rings

How perfectly I feel the noose
of longing. Were I able to quiet this
mind and walk into 
    myself for a thousand
miles, perhaps I would 

arrive at the other 
side of loneliness. Those who
call offer dead words when I need
lightning rods in a summer 

storm. Day or night, this body 
wants light before it no longer
sings, always. 

    Come, 

let us sit under our words, a many-
ringed tree, bodies drunk on lost 
time, listening to delicate leaves 
rustling. How large this day is as if 

it had room for happiness.  
    Possibility: two, 
together—slowly annihilated 

by gratitude.

Copyright 2020 Juniper White