On the ground between us there is a hole.
Can you call something a pit when you can’t
See the bottom of it? Cross, you tell us.
Make it over here and then we can love you.
One by one, we cross the only way our bodies can.
One by one, falling until the pit fills up.
One day, you say, we’ll feel the footsteps crossing over us.
You swear that there’s a bottom and we’re the ones to find it.