The Shifting Diagonal

Knowing that we are both sinking—
that we are all sinking—
I search your eyes for answers
in a world that is now tilted—
a world where the lens is a muddled turquoise.
There is an echo of fear
from all of the years
that have gone before.
We are trembling,
as children do,
after being swaddled in scratchy towels.
Parents reassuring us
with promises of a rainbow ice pop.
We long for that swaddling—
for someone to gently adjust the blinds
at twilight,
and cook up a pot of something bubbly, steaming,
and tomato-based—
fresh baked bread in a warm bowl.

If we look into the nature of want and longing,
we see ourselves in the mirror pool of eyes.
My soulful brown ovals meet your Aegean Sea blues.
I gaze into the deep forever of tomorrow.

The floor beneath our feet shifts on the diagonal.
The sky tilts, too.
The only way through is to float
and hold hands.
If we lose sight of the shore,
at least we will not lose each other.