Our words telegraphed
along this mannered code,
as if what I say
could be interpreted
in any other way:
listen close, knife
to throat, lip to ear,
and you might hear
your own voice
gasping for air.
So many ways to say:
who I am, what you
want, too much falls
by the side, too much
left unresolved.
Despite our trust
we harbor doubt
that what we say
together has a hope
to last beyond today.
We’re both left alone:
wondering where we are,
drunk in a bar, or soulless
in suburban bliss, longing
for a last transient caress.
(March 18, 2015)
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