My Desperate Grasp

A poem.

I tried to hold onto your hand

In your voice through a phone line,

And you said

Let's move slow,

And I said

I don't mind.

And in such a brief exchange

Tectonic plates were rearranged

And the shift in the ground beneath our feet

Caused your satellite fingers to breach

My desperate grasp

I'm jumping conclusions,

I gasp.

Or not.

You're gone,

I gasp,

You're gone.