Distance

Now that distance has been written
and I write away the distance,
I wonder if closer
is the possibility
of a poem.

In letters and emails
there are accounts
of days,
and on chat
a history
of inconsequence.

Nearer it is
the prose
of relations,
shared evenings
and nights
and morning teas.

But further
they are,
voices,
gestures,
intonations
of friends
and lovers;

imagined,
remembered,
inching
towards
verse.