I wake to the taste
of summer 6 months from now,
on the other side of the world.
Or is it, 6 months before
as I lay in the arms of another man
reading you like poetry,
metaphors overlapping on lusted limbs,
and I, getting the meaning all wrong.
My naked mouth whispers
An inaccessible tangle
Of forgotten God’s
As our bodies curve
In places where quiet flowers grow.
I will not watch anymore,
I know the way your husband eyes
Follow me back to the earth.
I watch my contentment, painted on the cheek of sunset
Contemplating the last of his shadow imprint as it
Chases bird choruses westward, asking for wind
That only briefly touches his sonorous embrace.
I love the silence flung from his city shoulders
Crowning the space where tepid conversations
Traced the patterns of my mouth,
Mouth stained with the hum of red
And ardently falling on the applause of his eye.
Life is like poetry; loving isn’t about capturing the muse.
Some words, are so unnecessary.