I had told you what it means to miss someone,

That I can't wish that things weren't as they are.

And I hadn't thought of what it would be like

To see a photo of you swimming in the ocean.

I want to say, there, that's it, that feeling

Of being overwhelmed, of the expansiveness

of being hit in the stomach, being overcome with desire,

Not to touch, not to taste, not to feel,

But to be all of them, to give in completely, let yourself go.

A friend of mine who often questions, I think, whether we are,

Did one of the bravest things I'm not sure I could have done,

And reminded a professor to keep his word.

And I wonder if she thinks that the outrage she felt

Must somehow outweigh the bravery?

Kant was wrong; the greatest things are often done from the strongest feelings,

And the worst things done with the development of a peaceful inner world.

Of a quiet murmuring that lulls you to sleep.

And these are the things I want to tell you.

I want to whisper things in your ear

Not to seduce or feed desire, but just to have you that close,

Close enough that that I can wonder if now, for a second,

My breath would be still on your skin

The way you were still for a second in the tension of the photograph

Whether it will hold my thoughts

The way for a second the sea held you.