Spaces and places in between

I(t) sunk.

The polarity
forcing, melting away to fit
never hot enough to break shape.

Hit and hit and hit, with miss:
concave, aching, bending, breaking
to be

whole.

To round out the dents,
smooth the curves,
pave the cracks.

To fill the space,
(your space)
with spaces and places
and names
of
my own.

Of mine, my fingertips reaching
to find the brink of
your tongue,
the well boarded shut,

and sing sweetly
and low
and slow

as soft
as tender
as all
of
you.