even when work
finds a way to keep
my fingers turning
wrenches all day
the gerbil races
in its little wheel
squeaking out
words i trace in
braille along
the side of the machine
tap tap tapping
knowing they fall
to the tile
officially unwritten
yet fully formed
at the height of
concentration where
efficiency is
a flurry of chaos
in no wasted motion
her heart is always
the beacon driving
my every thought

i tell you that
i love you in every
turn of the screw
and baby, i turned
around two hundred today
and still the words
course like high voltage
through my willing frame
i am enchanted by
your effortless magic
in ways words cannot
ever manage to convey