Magnetic Declination

You are the magnetic declination that renders my compass useless: true north spinning wild in the presence of your gravity.

I have charted the topography of your sleeping form but cannot navigate the strange weather system of your silences.

In my study, surrounded by atlases of places that no longer exist, I trace the phantom borders of what we were,

if I had understood that some distances cannot be measured in miles, that some territories exist only in the liminal space

between the mapmaker's intention and the traveller's desperate need to call the same patch of darkness

home.

Reviews

[Thomas W Case]

Excellent work, my friend.