Walking with Jun
Kelly Luce

“Are we the same or different?”
Trick question:
When you snap your fingers, space obeys—
A pet, a child, a lover.

Before the sun rose over the new year
You’d thumb-printed my hairline.
Later: one fingertip, curling.
Have we named that slope between the forehead and nose,

the valley between eyes?
A holy place. Some need no ordination.

Frequency, vibration, resonance, noise—
No, not noise.
Talk, talk talk—
Don’t let me forget the sound.
You clapped your hands over snow and said, “Listen.”


(First appeared in Flyway)

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