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“The distance between my lips and yours cannot be deciphered from the square root of the sum of the days we have spent wondering what to do with three minutes and ten seconds. The distance between my lips and yours cannot be deduced by the difference in the circumferences of our necks or in how many minutes we can sit in the noon sun. The distance between my lips and yours can only be measured in poems. Tell me, how many are there? Were there? Will there be? (But who knows what to call a poem and what to call a conversation? And who knows whether to call at all?)” — Vironika Tugaleva
The distance between my lips and yours
cannot be deciphered from the square root
of the sum of the days we have spent wondering
what to do with three minutes and ten seconds.
The distance between my lips and yours
cannot be deduced by the difference in
the circumferences of our necks or in
how many minutes we can sit in the noon sun.
The distance between my lips and yours
can only be measured in poems.
Tell me, how many are there?
Were there? Will there be?
(But who knows what to call a poem
and what to call a conversation?
And who knows whether to call at all?)