Peabody museum closed for renovations, March of 2020

We met under the octopus, tentacles suspended over us,
gathering us in. I will return here over and over
after the war has separated us, the basement
has separated us, the dead dog in the street
has separated us. I will return here,

I will turn my face upward as I dreamt of doing
while sending you care packages–
prints I made after pressing my breasts
in paint and ink, puzzles to stave off all the longing,
lip balm to soften your reception of me.
The long address hurt my hand,
your unit, the military codes,

I will turn my face up toward you, searching, searching,
kiss me under the octopus, kiss me,
kiss me.