I Want to Tell You

I know it
doesn’t matter, no matter
how I spin it.
And I suspect
you don’t need
to hear it. And I suspect
you don’t want
to hear it. But I want
to tell you–and I
am just sad enough, because
of the gray sky
or maybe all the lost dogs
and definitely the dead
children, that my membrane has
thinned, supple now,
penetrable as the vulnerable
new skin over a newborn’s skull–
that I miss you.