Things that Come in Twos

Things that Come in Twos

The hands I type these lines with, read or unread, are a pair

Right hand that rubs my eyes and left hand ringed, wed, are a pair

My parents, my short tall yin-yang missionary parents

One desperate to talk and one leaving so much unsaid, are a pair

These lines, scrambling to fit what won't quite fit

These lines, pulling on the ragged binding shred, are a pair

The tree ripped out this afternoon, marked in pink by the city a week ago

And the deer this morning I almost tripped on, spilling red, are a pair

You and I, if only you'll come and dance with me again

If you dare come and see how lightly I've learned to tread, are a pair

You and I, rehearsing the lines, discussing the deer and the tree

You and I, holding these hands at night in this oversized bed, are a pair