Skinny Letters

He often wondered if.
Just if.
Not necessarily the what if,
the suppose if, the if-then,
the how about if, the if only.
His if surpassed the conjunction’s
nature to ask a question or
to join two different things.
All the heartbeat noise and stir,
the inhale and exhale
of night’s spent staring
at if written in bold black
invisibility upon nothing but
dark ceiling, waking to if climbing
the eastern horizon, filled his eyes
like pennies on a dead man’s.
He’d long cursed his dread realization
that two skinny letters could unite
a pair of ideas, concepts,
realities, when a wider duo
— WE —
or another
— US —
never did.

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