I remember the time
he came out of the woods
with the hares in his hand,
casually, as though they were
a pair of gloves, blood stained.
The summer silence
bloomed on everything,
a verdigris that rusted shut
the clamor of my thoughts,
I no longer recognized myself,
the way the lines on my face
softened around him.
My life before obscured
like the coin that grew green
in my pocket, unspent, useless,
the face on it blurring
beyond recognition.
There was no future, no past,
just this; the time he came out
of the woods, handed me this gift.
something we both understood.
Love; a currency
I had never spoken before, or since heard.
No comments:
Post a Comment