moonlike

By PATRICIA LOWDEN | Published: March 27, 2010

Quiet too
she is pulling back
pushing
our bodies tangle
the light is fractured
I’m ancient as the knotty arm of the apple tree
outstretching always away
from fear
that darkness that lies coiled in the corner
sometimes finds it way around the light I hide in
I hide outside of myself
in windowsills on tree limbs
on wet lips of bottles and songs that hang in the air
we learn each other slowly
as rapid tongues search the curve of hips
something where the neck eases into the shoulders
a softness there
we weren’t expecting
I wasn’t expecting her
but the door opens and closes now
the way a song begins and ends
there is a lingering of sound
a voice that shudders against the silence
I assume she contemplates the end
strings strum subtlety into an empty room
at the bottom of the crescendo
I become tense and let go
in one breath
unsure of my footing
but comfortable in the idea of passing clouds
if she is one
if we are free from expectation
she is young enough
to blaze through here
and I am true enough
to breathe air into her fire
I have visions
of summer sun gold
and hilltops I could show her
but there is a line there
we both draw
and erase and paint over
and curl away from
and dive into
She knows not
what to do with me
that she sees me
somewhere between a listless island
and laughter and outgoing stars that whirl
and ride
and timeless though occasionally fading against
the onslaught of minutes that rattle me
some times
I wish she could speak out against the wind
and some times I want her to tell me
her visions clearly
but I know better than to ask
Be wildly wandering in love
its true enough in its exploration
fortunate even in its most obscure moments
bittersweet in the time it takes
to grow
truthfully from the bones out
even the stars are dumbfounded
spinning there
through the sky
we fall and rise more moonlike than anything



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