Sorry about the half-hung
phone calls, the beeps’ chain
a single car on the highway
in the valley under dial-tone
stars. Sorry for the minute gap
between your mouth and my ear.
Sorry that I have been such a
hypocrite, that my love has turned
out to be so apologetic, an abashed
schoolboy out alone in the corridor,
his thoughts rattling the lockers,
rapping on every window. Sorry
that my love is the second hand’s
waltz in the middle of this glassy hall.
My love is the one that never feels
complete, constantly a step more
up the winding stair. Sorry my love
is a seed waiting for the death of
snow. Sorry we don’t have power
to decide what lives and what grows.
My love is so small in the face of
everything else, and too big to
fit quietly inside my chest pocket.
I am sorry that I don’t know how
to express this sentiment other
than through half-forgotten letters
I’ve stuffed throughout the house,
hoping you will chance upon them.
But soon, I will be with you again,
and it’s like everything is possible,
and the phones redial themselves,
and the car drives backwards out of the desert,
and the stars blend back into the sky,
and the children are playing in the yard,
and I am at the top of the stairs now,
and it is quiet, so quiet here, save
for the small rosary I keep under my tongue –
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you –
my mouth. Your ear. Nobody else in the hall.
Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.