Haiku No. 15

I clutch the paper

That has your number on it

Like it's a baton.

I run with it clasped

In my grasp in a race that

No one knows about.

My hands sweat in fear.

If I lose these 10 digits,

Will I lose you, too?

I won't pass it off.

I'm the anchor (of a ship?)

That will descend first.

Whether by sea or

By foot, I'll never drop it.

It's a clean relay.

I clutch the paper

That has your number on it

Like it's a baton.