the way they wrote in the beginning, when he was away, bridging a continent and ocean, mixes their old love languages now to reach him across two countries and a separating sea, languages she struggles with, wants to be sure of, to get the right words in the right place, cariño, ven a bailar conmigo, I can teach you the steps you don’t know, y me puedes enseñar tus secretos, I miss your embrace, your whispers in the night, te amo, te quiero, and in time his reply arrives on foreign paper under a foreign stamp, equally careful in which words accompany which of the many different heartbeats he has named as hers, if and if-ever, pero yo no sé mañana, I barely know today, pero yo se como soñar, of you, of us.