"Scimitar"
how do we come clean like this?
the sun is shining on a meadow full of thistles.
we walk through the dusty grasses with our hands together
and our hearts apart.
our fingertips are longingly woven together like a basket
that holds no sand.
there could have been snakes in that basket, or gold,
or food for the orphans waiting to be fed,
but instead it is an empty basket
and we both feel hungry and impoverished
and safe.
we watch the daylight smoulder to darkness
as we silently follow this trampled-down trail.
sometimes we make as if to speak, we look at each other
and our eyes are full of words.
but canadian geese, leaving early for autumn,
hysterically shatter that pause before speech,
and both of us realize that summer is ending
and we have nothing to eat.
"it's getting late," you say eventually.
a harvest moon rises,
heavy and low.
shivering with the onset of night, i nod in agreement
and suddenly you pull me close,
and for a moment i am curved in your arms like a scimitar
waiting to cut us free.
"i can't..." you begin.
"i know," i say.
you choose to stay hungry and impoverished
and safe.
how do we come clean like this?
our hands unclasp softly
like dreamers dying in their sleep.
the sun is shining on a meadow full of thistles.
we walk through the dusty grasses with our hands together
and our hearts apart.
our fingertips are longingly woven together like a basket
that holds no sand.
there could have been snakes in that basket, or gold,
or food for the orphans waiting to be fed,
but instead it is an empty basket
and we both feel hungry and impoverished
and safe.
we watch the daylight smoulder to darkness
as we silently follow this trampled-down trail.
sometimes we make as if to speak, we look at each other
and our eyes are full of words.
but canadian geese, leaving early for autumn,
hysterically shatter that pause before speech,
and both of us realize that summer is ending
and we have nothing to eat.
"it's getting late," you say eventually.
a harvest moon rises,
heavy and low.
shivering with the onset of night, i nod in agreement
and suddenly you pull me close,
and for a moment i am curved in your arms like a scimitar
waiting to cut us free.
"i can't..." you begin.
"i know," i say.
you choose to stay hungry and impoverished
and safe.
how do we come clean like this?
our hands unclasp softly
like dreamers dying in their sleep.