#replays

Maya C Popa

it is you who leaves. So I set out

to read for signs of imminence,

the same river twice stepped in.

Morning rises gently on the harbour;

our letters come disguised as life.

We know the score but fracture

on fact. We sign a dotted line

made out of promise—the pipes

in November clanging on with heat,

the window left at night a little open.

I love you; then what? Hands

suddenly alive. I plead with time,

adamant, remorseless. So we begin

in earnest; what then? I plead

with time, adamant, remorseless.

Hands suddenly alive. I love you;

then what? The pipes in November

clanging on with heat, the window

left at night a little open. We sign

a dotted line made out of promise—

we know the score but fracture

on fact. Our letters come disguised

as life; morning rises gently on

the harbour. So I set out to read

for signs of imminence, the same

river twice stepped in. One way