four stories above grand avenue
don’t worry, baby
i see you
and me
what we are
could be
together
in the cut
taking care
to tear everything down
but each other
what an undeniably fine pair we make
but what looms larger
is what we will never be
uncooperative past lives
casting shadows
over unison laughter and room service trays
don’t worry, baby
i’ll never wear your shirt and wish for you
i won’t read the messages or answer the phone at 4 am when the brown liquor is speaking on your behalf
as an act of mercy
will you please pull your fedora down
and cover your dark eyes
so i do not have to pretend
that i don’t see the way you look at me
as we sit by the window
able to be opened just enough
to save us from the fire
release our smoke rise
but not to fall from this height
never fall
i promise not to fall
in love
don’t worry, baby
.
.
.
sunday morning
eyelid stage curtains rise
before the sun
mistaking
my streetlight dreams of you
for that which
wakes the world to life
sleeping in a bed
without your body beside me
is an empty gesture
recently left impressions
still warm upon the sheets
i slink
slipslide
to your side
of the world
hoping the scent of your skin
still lingers in the thread count
our memories hidden under the soft white pillows
i am writhing beneath
your beat
pounded metal drum lovers
sewn to the mattress
unable
unwilling
in my wanting
to move from this moment
our moans become jazz
bra straps pulled from my shoulders
nightgown torn at the thigh
you lift me to your mouth
crashing lips into my hips
tongue conquering me
our kisses an act of delicious war
i am happy to be slammed
face down
prone
to every inch of you
coming together
inside through and covering
this unending ache
for the
sunday morning
fuck poem
.
.
.
feather pillows
he walked toward me
wearing nothing but a hat
and frank sinatra’s eyes
spinning my silken body toward the 3 am skyline
he pressed my nightgown against window glass
the throbbing metropolis below
i felt his poetry against my thighs
as he whispered
to my shoulder
“Have you ever made love
while watching angels fall?”
.
.
.
just before you left
you walked through the door of my life
as though you were coming home
despite the fact we had aligned
to go off to war together
how long in coming
our handshake had been
both of us weary but grateful
looking as if we had just driven in
from purgatory
i was prepared for every outcome
but you
the way we so naturally cared for each other
pour another drink
throw money on the table
take the keys
offer an arm
roll another one so we can sit by our window and laugh
we survived the flashing random checkpoint lights and leering eyes
applauded for each other
cried for each other
snapped to attention
on reverent common ground
listened entranced as ghosts of dead starlets rang our doorbell
made love with biltmore rooftop aspirations
but what killed me
what changed the world
and
the reason we now call each other when we’re
driving alone
scared
was the way you kissed me
just before you left
the music
stopped
.
