Hyphen
Blue-black on my inked page,
strange-looking if I stare.
Low-key, quick-witted. Made
for bridging gaps. Born
with the urge to marry
the alien or lonely,
to dignify with linked
names new sons-in-law…
whole worlds on either side.
You the steel coupler
I can’t imagine without––
I’ll have to write left-handed
if they erase you.
Little one, your lifestyle
vexes tramplers-in-charge. Text me
some words from your narrowboat.
