I write this while you sew

Solstice sun sets slow through the window on Johnson
on your Johnstons
and on you while you sew.
I keep my head low and
write this poem in our limbo.

I know how the pedal hums
and what it does,
knowing how my world itself comes undone

and on your quiet island
around your fingers respun
I trace your seams like moonbeams between my thumbs

you say all I see is empty space 
and the art you're adding one by one

but one night in the world	
     one missed flight in the world
it was a wrong turn that led me to this place 
then when everything made sense
I was swimming in your deep
       and now I’m writing this poem for you while you sleep
as things reveal themselves to me like shells on the beach 

    every word you speak
crosses an ocean

and when I wake in the morning I find you 
sewing.