Five a.m. finds me, Friday morning,
Like a long lost lover,
whose ship sunk at sea.
The embrace is weary
heavy on my shoulders
enlightening my racing heart
and mind
[(floating free
and
Drowning down)
A simultaneous conundrum]
Early morning takes me further
into predawn thoughts;
Falling asleep
and melting into
dew.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
They had nothing to say to each other
They had nothing to say to each other.
Quite simply, they had exhausted all possible phrasings, rebuffs and and rebuttals. They sat on the cold front stoop of their solitary cabin, nestled amidst dramatically colored maples.
She sighed.
He turned, glancing at her over his shoulder. The sun was rising behind her, creating halos, making her angelic. The sigh that had escaped from her lips clouded in the late October air, swirling towards the cloudless sky. Why could she not understand? It was not his choice to go away. Leaving was one of the last things he wanted to do. But the paper crumpled in his pocket declared that he must.
He sighed, stretching, shivering from the brush of cold air around his belly, his neck, as his bomber jacket shifted with him. The concrete they sat on was cold, and frosted leaves crunched underfoot as he extended his legs. Could he run away? No. If he ran she be be as equally forbidden as if he went to where he was bid. He encircled her shoulders in his arm, entangled a hand in straight caramel hair. She leaned into him, breathing the sharp fall air, the old leather of his jacket, the faintest whiff of his cologne.
They had talked all night. She was tired, scared but accepting. There was no option in which he stayed. In any case, given a few months, her own summons would come, and she would answer the door, peering out into the hard noon light, into the stern faces of the officers who had come, finally, to take her away.
She reached her arm, untangling his hand from her hair, intertwining her fingers with his. She stood, bringing him with her, back through the door of the cabin, back up the stairs to the unslept-in bed. She placed a cool hand on his cheek, and they looked each other in the eyes. She nodded and he crumpled into her shoulder, crying. She led him to the edge of the bed, and sat beside him.
They would be woken by the harsh rappings at the cabin door, hours later. He would answer the summons now, and she would follow meager months later. They would meet again, in the city, the smog filled dome, no longer the same, still not strangers, but not quite friends.
Quite simply, they had exhausted all possible phrasings, rebuffs and and rebuttals. They sat on the cold front stoop of their solitary cabin, nestled amidst dramatically colored maples.
She sighed.
He turned, glancing at her over his shoulder. The sun was rising behind her, creating halos, making her angelic. The sigh that had escaped from her lips clouded in the late October air, swirling towards the cloudless sky. Why could she not understand? It was not his choice to go away. Leaving was one of the last things he wanted to do. But the paper crumpled in his pocket declared that he must.
He sighed, stretching, shivering from the brush of cold air around his belly, his neck, as his bomber jacket shifted with him. The concrete they sat on was cold, and frosted leaves crunched underfoot as he extended his legs. Could he run away? No. If he ran she be be as equally forbidden as if he went to where he was bid. He encircled her shoulders in his arm, entangled a hand in straight caramel hair. She leaned into him, breathing the sharp fall air, the old leather of his jacket, the faintest whiff of his cologne.
They had talked all night. She was tired, scared but accepting. There was no option in which he stayed. In any case, given a few months, her own summons would come, and she would answer the door, peering out into the hard noon light, into the stern faces of the officers who had come, finally, to take her away.
She reached her arm, untangling his hand from her hair, intertwining her fingers with his. She stood, bringing him with her, back through the door of the cabin, back up the stairs to the unslept-in bed. She placed a cool hand on his cheek, and they looked each other in the eyes. She nodded and he crumpled into her shoulder, crying. She led him to the edge of the bed, and sat beside him.
They would be woken by the harsh rappings at the cabin door, hours later. He would answer the summons now, and she would follow meager months later. They would meet again, in the city, the smog filled dome, no longer the same, still not strangers, but not quite friends.
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