Photo: Ice shadows leaf. David Graham
Today another poem by Paula Sergi, from Black Forest Love Songs.
March, but the ice hasn’t broken
yet. Yesterday’s long ray of sun
reached in, woke me to the ache
of every neuron in my skin,
memory of your hands and
making love for recreation,
shedding all pretense.
Then we were unguarded
almost fierce, as if our lives
depended on it.
Then evening was one
long silence to savor,
like tapping crème brulee,
just before its small breaking
opens to something delicious.
But someone leaves in the morning,
or has made a promise
to someone else, or nothing at all
has been said about morning.
Walking on thin ice over Spring puddles,
knowing as one foot lifts
even before the next step
my weight will cause melt,
cause the cracking.
Photo: Frozen puddle nebula. David Graham