whirled world

the globe spins on the tip of my index finger
as seas and shores slip seamlessly past my eyelashes.

I blink myself between mountains,
on river beds,
my breath evaporating like clouds,
close enough for me to kiss it
too close for me to miss it

behind fences
in street light
between the sheets
underwater

these whirled whispers,
curled lisps of love yous,
held tight in a fist,
crushed like moth wings,
or sprawled across pillows in a morning breathed sigh,
they cross oceans.