“To the Reader: The Language of the Cloud” by Chase Twichell:
Come with me to a private room.
I have a secret to show you.
Sometimes I like to stand outside it
with a stranger because I haven’t
come at it from that vantage in so long—
see? There I am beside him, still joined,
still kissing. Isn’t it dreamlike,
the way the bed drifts in its dishevelment?
Bereft of their clothes, two humans
lie entangled in its cloud.
Their bodies are saying the after-grace,
still dreaming in the language of the cloud.
Look at them, neither two nor one.
I want them to tell me what they know
before the amnesia takes them.