Omer Day 7-Chat me

                        Malchut Shechina she’b Chesed*
Standing up from breakfast,
we begin a hug.  You start to tell me
some no-count news of lack
and loss.  I say come closer.  Nest
your voice’s timbre in my ear.
You dive deep, bear down, bring up
your most cavernous rumbling tone.

I whisper, See it does not matter
what you say, you who claim
to despise small-talk.  “Chat me,”
I command, “Chit-chit chat me.”
And you do—all the hot air of silly
words dizzying us as we turn
and turn across the kitchen floor.
     *Indwelling Majestic Presence within Lovingkindness

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