trumpet of july night
is how i feel about our love affair
that has slowly started to belong to us
like possessions you keep in boxes
you hide them
because they remind you of a time
before now
something you can examine and make peace with.
thats where i am holding you
against me, pressed up
sternum to sternum
like a fence.
i am holding you so tightly
but away from here
in the second growth
after winter
but before now.
now is like being pressed up against
the glass
the breath against sand
causing
immediate claustrophobia
and blindness.
when i feel that i love you
i am not telling you here, now.
i am telling you before
when your hair was different
and your hands swept my body
like ink in water.
spreading out like wind over salt
when everything you said
i believed in and kissed.
and hung up in my doorways.
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