Ode to the Double “L”

Twin shorelines
at the end
of my name, traffickers
of white space,
you could last on the tongue
forever, lolling, longing,
an endless drawing out
of the little stream
between you.
Fill my life.
I drink from the narrowest
canal, flowing between
two countries
that, half of the time,
claim me.
Double “l,”
bring me back
to the in-between
where my breath
has always lived,
without containment,
like two legs
pointing toward the ocean,
or these arms
reaching into sky.
From birth you have doubled
my grief and my wonder,
shown me
forever the parallel
which can never touch—
the way I run
alongside my love
without entering
his true mind.
Rivulet of secrets,
slim as a eucalyptus leaf,
airplane runway
of the heart.
Double “l,”
let my days
always move
in two directions.
Build me a channel
into which I can pour
this voice.


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