Onomatopoesis of the distance between us,
alto echo of telos

achieved, chimed reflection received
in milliseconds, milli–

meters of fiber
by the millions. I

loose this pulse,
its volts, and wait—

snowshine through the windows, shadows
of hexadecimal flakes—

as in the wires it makes and mirrors
from here its way here

again to show me the floating
point where you lie in all of this light.