I click on the smiling picture
of me from three weeks ago.
I refuse to take a photo now.

I look for the full moon—
for the direction I used to know—
but I am swallowed
by a sky gone black.

The doorway keeps making space.

There is a gravity in my chest now;
everything collapses toward it.

The moment you appear,
I sew my mouth shut.
My thumbs hover above the glass;
I open our thread and come undone.