The Suspension

The Suspension

If you sit beside me on the couch to watch
the morning sunlight flood our den you will see
why I've been quiet lately. I'm not very bright,
but I make up for it by growing old in the moments
that the world's radiance can afford. My face
keeps a ledger my mind knows nothing
about, lest my tongue should rear a voice
no one else can comprehend. My awareness
of you is not part of my intelligence. I wish
I could teach this stillness to others. When
our bodies warm each other we recognize
the distance between us, our gazes
climbing the other side of time. When I awaken
I answer all your questions, which have written
themselves in me over the years. You listen,
speaking from some place unknown to the scope
of reason, the pool of one unresolved want.