You troll the storehouse for the length of sentences you’ve been
safekeeping for battle. You pass your tongue over each
lumpy word, memorize the order. You gather the curtains dusting
the edges of the story you’d tucked into every line of palm,
every crease of heart, each bend and fold of your body.
You hold this refined army up by the neck, ready to thrust it forward
as evidence of your injury, preparing yourself for the hefty assault that will follow
as you volley back with further proof. But then, face to face at last,
you find your soldiers have abandoned their posts, and it is just you,
standing there, looking into the eyes of someone you love, and have, always.