Blueboy

Blueboy,
We are almost impossible to separate
– like a letter and its word 
– like the idea and the feeling of producing it
Yet when we separate, more language comes into view

As I repeat the word
That I think you are in my mind
Each time I expect 
– a different meaning 
– a different sound 
I might decide to accept the word for its consistency
And lay (not yet sleep) in it  

I watch a play that is adapted from a book that I loved
and it was perfectly new to me again
It’s called Bluets (a coincidence?)
I cannot help but kiss you 
– deep 
– on the mouth
just to see if the word would feel new as well

Sometimes I think I’m just not using the right word 
I trace the movements of you
The shapes don’t look like letters
and I am hoping to spell out what I mean
– in a language I have learnt for you 
– using the words you have made for me