Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Offering

I didn't recognize you
at first.
scanning the airport awaiters
my eyes touched you
and almost kept moving
but my heart
had stopped.
you were formal, unsmiling.
when did you finally smile?
hours later when the ice floe had
broken away
and wawa market
held us in suspended animation
we finally moved,
bumped against each other,
grinned like we never did
in high school --
glorified in our escape,
snug as twinkies.

you tortured me at the
gas station, leaning toward me enclessly in your car
whispering,
I'm gonna get a map, okay?
leaning into me so I had
no space of my own.
me the audience just waiting
for the kiss and aching
from the torture.
wanting to
smash my way out of your car
and run back to our midnight
bed where interrupting the rush
and cascade of clothes in the dark
you moved to kneel behind me,
gently releasing the buttons
just below the nape
of my neck.
this treatment
comes easily to you.

pauses and negative space
balance the crowd of red
loving and blue blue memories.
you offer me drowning
and stillness
and I accept.

living with you
is a breathing experiment.
a musical measure elegant with rests.
starlight in peripheral vision.
breathing in the dark.
serious,
unsmiling,
never alone.


(c)Toni Wynn          1993
from the place within where the universe resides

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