Typewriter Series #2622 by Tyler Knott GregsonThey call it...

Typewriter Series #2622 by Tyler Knott Gregson

They call it independence,
celebrate it each year, fireworks
and parades, songs that echo down
twisting streets, down avenues wide.
I call it the same, always will,
for the three words that fell out of you
that day, the three words of mine
that followed as though they’d always
been holding hands,
and we’re holding them still.

This is the shape of things,
the dome like sky littered with starlight,
with glow and memory.
This is the shape of us,
linked and elastic, pulling
back to some center.
One day, stillness,
no need for the bounce
back.  One day,
I’ll roll over and find you
in the sheets, I’ll pause
waiting for the laughter between
your lips, I’ll reach for you
before I drift off.

Even a fingertip, touching mine,
and I can sleep still and sound.

One day all our sleep
will be sound.  

-Tyler Knott Gregson-