After It Is Said

Who you are
tumbles from the tongue—
the lightness of the unsaid,
the smooth whisper
of all that was lost.

The way we did not notice
the hollowness that came
only water,
swollen inside
bloated and bursting.

I am hungry for
an overflowing
an overabundance
a river that does not run dry
the ridges of the canyon that lie soft
the eternal rings of a tree trunk.

This is how my love will be.

—By Colleen Hamilton-Lecky