There was a lull, a break from bliss
when I turned to face the window
looking for all the world, you said,
“like I was composing a new verse.”
Even on our pleasure barge
there are lapses in understanding,
for this groping for words (I thought but did not say)
is not a gasp for air but a further plunging;
I stroke you with both tangible hands
and feet unstressed or thudding…
but “sorry, love” did seem in order
before the revels resumed. Or continued.
from Silver RosesFind it in the library
Copyright © Persea Books 2010
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Persea Books.
