The Curve of the Earth

The Curve of the Earth

Two time zones separate my love and I.
Nevertheless, all day we talk to each other,
and sometimes out loud we each confess.
We pull books off the shelves to show each other.
We argue philosophy and laugh and share a memory,
we who have never touched, or even met except 
in childhood which is a place that no longer exists.
We cry out, "Come look!" into the next room.
At night the moon is a fulcrum that connects us,
and sometimes it is a mirror above our single bed.
When each thought, every word, lasts two hours,
how can I explain to you what we share?
If I were an astrologer, I would point to the stars.
If I were an astrophysicist, I would sing space and time.
If only I could talk about gravity and dark energy
and particles that fly through the earth as if through air.
If only I could remember the constellations and their stories.
Then maybe I could explain this miracle of longing.
But I am just a simple man separated from the one I love
by two time zones and the long, slow curve of the earth.


—Jonathan Tabakin, April 2019