that first bitter taste, that sudden introduction
where the hands shake and the eyes meet
firmly, the confidences shared.
I don’t remember feeling
sweat erupting from my skin,
raising the temperature, snaking
its perfume into the heavy lidded air,
chilling in the open window’s song.
I can’t recall where I’ve heard these words before,
the heaving rise and fall
of their intonation and their sudden weight,
the impulsive silence that they left,
the aftermath
draped by the gentle rise and fall
of the curtains.
No, I don’t suppose that I remember,
but if you insist then it must be so
that I did what you wanted me to.
December 10
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