In Closing...
The memory snags of prearranged trysts,
Of bare limbed collision, how you invited me
Come feel the twin pulses locked in your wrists,
Held in naked choreography.
Songs flicker distantly through my mind,
Less immediate, translations by phonograph,
An old wind-up toy, a ghost deaf and blind
To the chatter and kiss, tear and laugh.
The tang of wild blackberries on your thigh,
The lick of the laughter lines of your loin,
Trespassed your anatomy, felt you sigh
Climactic in gasping when we would join.
Mardi gras days in betrayal expired,
The brambles on balustrades scathed me red,
I sank to my knees, drained empty and tired,
Half welcomed the coup de gras shot to the head.
My pilgrimage to you ran aground and ceased,
I repeat to myself now and then
How I should have pronounced you free and released
From my selfish desires way back when.
Like the fading of a once arousing scent,
I look at you now and try to recall,
Yet such memories cannot serve to prevent
The creeping sensation of nothing at all…
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