Whisper Jar Poem by Caroline White

Maybe it was the first time
I felt you,
Sticky skin meeting mine,
Horizons of the planets of our bodies
Colliding with lust
Embarrassed and beautiful and glistening
With sweat and the blood of virginity
Weighed down on my hips by the heaviness
Of our insignificance,
Lifted up by the lightness
Of our nothingness.
Was that the moment I changed you
From a person into the
Idea of one?
Your arm your leg
My arm my leg
Bodily place holders spilled over a bed,
Your books your CDs our evening coffee
Our stupid birthday cards,
Tangible evidence of your being
Still floats around our hometown like ashes in space
Somewhere in between galaxies.
But I can't believe you're real
Even with telescopes and astronomers
And moon rocks I touched when I was young,
Even with my eyes closed and the world
Completely black and able to be
Anything.

I collected your whispers in my mother's jars,
Retraced the lines you drew on my skin in pen
Every day you were gone,
Kept the seeds and kernels that got stuck between your teeth
In the summer,
I left you with nothing but limbs
And teeth to make small talk
And lips to kiss girls that starve
In their dresses.