Friday, October 13, 2017


This Evening

I’m still yours this evening.

There’s time for anything, really.

We could sweat and mush

our sweat against our slick

skins until our names disappear,

until the two of us

weave into one

while the moon pokes its silver

head through our toes.

I’m still yours this evening

and I like hearing you

say my name,

but really, I like saying yours,

the way I am now,

sitting on this gnarled

log in the dark,

facing three hills that look like

giant Hershey’s Kisses

waiting to be unwrapped

and devoured.

I’m still yours this evening

and I’m saying your name

and invisible night birds

are saying your name

and the hills and stars and

all earth is saying it, too.

We’re all saying it,

with arms open and chins tucked,

patiently wondering

where you are.

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