We drew a circle in a square,

it fit alright, but left us

with empty corners

and broken compasses.

I told you that I didn’t love you

(even though you didn’t ask)

and it stupidly started to rain,

the drops hitting my cheeks

with tears I knew

I wouldn’t cry. I waited through

7 ½ Mississippi’s as I stared

at the watch tower:

its clock has stopped at 11:34

for nearly a month now, as if it wanted

to remember some secret thing

that happened—

                             How long have we been stuck?

We ventured through terra incognita,

sketched coastlines and Darwin’s birds,

uncovered footprints and charred

traces of old fires.

We deserted gravity with

underwater handstands in

unnamed lakes and made

diagrams of the in-between’s

and the sort-of-in-the-middle’s.

We hitched tents in fresh dirt,

your cheeks flushed in match-tip red,

my shoulders peppered with

beauty marks and moth-eaten kisses.

We compared reports:

I shaded in rocks where

you doodled in the sea.

We couldn’t agree on a name

for it all, my map’s terrain

never matched up with yours.