Tuesday, January 3, 2012

these things

these things

i stand on the other side of this wall
i built between us like a tomb

brick by brick unconsciously mortaring you
and the possibility of you over there

and stand with these things
i can no longer say or share

as if they do not exist in my palms
itching to hold these things against your skin

i have reduced myself to masonry
that walls off these things that matter most

and i grow terrified of walls with no exits
silently mocking me for my carelessness

i have friends who wear cellophane
like Halloween masks

and there is nothing more frightening
than these things transparent

telling me with their faces every time
i conjure clear catastrophe

& if you could
if you would. . .

we meet in the first days of fall
winds rising & the chill of autumn

engulfing us like memories & hope
until our skin is cooled around our longing

& then you slip your hand into mine
cold fingers intertwined & clutching

until you pull against our walking
& at the pause your cold nose & lips

reach up to mine & press you against me

“it’s been so long since i’ve kissed you”

& these things awaken the joy of this possibility

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