Tryst

I wanted to tell you everything
About everything.
All of this noise, now.
Let it recede.
I only can be quiet —
Even under these hot lights.

Were my ears
Ringing from the pressure?
Or was I finally hearing
The chorus of her
Sighs?
Does there have to be a purpose?
All this sweet-smelling summer
Hints at an approach of the Fall.

It all became too much.
Words swelled
And slipped over the bank.
I never was the kind of engineer
To build a dam,
Or stem the flow.
So forgive me —
Indulge me, love.

Even though I knew I had
All the advantage of knowing you first —
Because your sentences
Could not be unspoken —
Still,
I worried.

Through the unseen,
Unheard
Celebration of these
Hidden places —
I nurtured a mythology.
And I knew all this laughter
Was only meant
To guard your soft eyes.

How they teased us,
Those playful, flying things —
While our limbs were
So heavy.
Still —
We, too,
Were creatures of the air.

I paused by a bare-branch tree —
Five mourning doves,
Watched.
How could they know?
How?
Damn it.
I thought it was getting so clear
And quiet here.

There is still time,
My love.
Let’s walk into
The woods.
Leave the watchers behind.
Here, I could call her for you.
Something to drown the sound.
One hand resting,
Just here,
I felt your heart quicken
As you sang it to me.
Your breath smelled like honey,
And your hand rough and worn.
Who else might we meet here?
The moth?
The monarch?
Who had gone on before?

But hollow and hungry,
I began to grow wary —
And so I turned back,
Before I could taste
Your sweet kiss.
And now, back beside
The mourning dove branches
I sleep,
And I wonder
At what I have missed.

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About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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