Missing You

by Connor Watkins-Xu

 

 

God, how many years have you been away
on vacation, sending unsigned postcards 
folded into swans, now an Osmanthus bouquet?
I’ve longed to see you coming back from afar
like you did before a Cuckoo crafted a nest
in the hollow of my side. Are you shower steam
and Viperfish? Have you hidden a new address 
for us in Alpha Centauri? Will heaven be
the end or the beginning? I don’t know. Maybe 
we’re both the sort others label as awfully quiet.
I have the hardest time believing you can make
angels sing in this burning cathedral. So help me 
forgive all I’ve left at your office door in piles. 
Lord, Friend, tell me a secret. Tell me about your day.

 

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