I wanted to tell you secrets
whisper what I shelter in the veiled place
no one but you might see

The morning in the glade
where the bees whirled a cyclone in their fury
and the fox softly stalked the harried mouse
you lifted your t-shirt
to show me the puckered sickle of the flesh near your hip

My head resting in the pool of your shoulder
you smelled of caramel apples and lumber
and I was consumed by a desire
to taste the salt of your neck
with the tip of my tongue and watch you dissolve

It was not the day to think of you as mortal
or impermanent

I took no care
your forewarning ignored
but only loved you more for the visible imperfection

Would it have been possible to stop myself even then
if I’d seen the dark mass forming
and knew you’d soon smell of morphine
and taste of unwavering regret

© Julie Ayers
April 2012 – NaPoWriMo 25

Inna Pilipenko by Jamie Isaia


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