Never Over

Transferring
from your shelves to my shelves
from your drawers to my drawers
from your walls to my walls
from your kitchen to my kitchen
from your bedside to my bedside
from your closet to my closet:
books, candles, collages, cups, nipple clamps, hoodies,
traces, negotiations, scented scenes, altars.

Left wondering from your
space to mine
what material could possibly transfer itself
in all the ways we have,
what objects could possibly shift
inside and out,
flip sideways and surrender
as our bodies have
day in and day out
over years, months, days and seconds.

As I pack up, load in, and drive away
only to unpack somewhere else
you haunt me--all/ready--and I know there's
no movement
yours or mine
near or far
now or later
capable of boxing and sending this love away.