Somewhere my body holds the memory of our tactile poetry   All those sonnets, sketched in finger-paints, the songs of you and me   How our skin hummed, electric, sparked like wires in the rain   That drenched us dueling fierce and hungry, until we both lay slain      I have it all up here, this dusty library in my head   Through its windows, snow blankets the garden of our bed      Well, if you gave me soap and penknife I could reinvent the wheel   But I can’t carve a life-size replica of just how good it feels   To have known a fraction of you for a fraction of the time   That we spent stripping back the molds we somehow thought were yours and mine      And the future sits, like stone blocks, under dustsheets in our hearts   Waiting, just to be uncovered, and for chiselling to start      Well, people have a name for it since Newton’s apple fell   You hold our love like a fallen apple, my hands shake, like William Tell