You don’t write back
I write, but you don’t
write back, and I’m
not sure if my letters
never reach you, or
if you’ve just given up
on me coming back
from this war.

I dream of you, of
your skin, I walk you:
your skin, miles of it,
trenched and gouged,
and in my dreams,
I find you in every
red stream filling
up every trench,
in every muddy
gorge that fills up
my boots between
where I am and
where you are.

And then I wake
and you are not
here with me:
but I would never wish
you here with me
You are not here with me
and without you
I don’t think I can
find my way back home.

– Gabriel Gadfly, “Unanswered Letters” from Bone Fragments