Monday, August 21, 2006

Near miss

He believed he could change her mind if he kept talking
w/out pause or conviction. Maybe she would see things clearly.
Maybe she would un-write the beginning and this time,
he'd be in it – a thick plot full of suspense and lovemaking.

He called her every Wednesday, making plans and breaking them.
He thought if her heart stayed bitter, she’d be butter on bread;
hands on soft lips; his hands on her lips. But she would forget
the engagement, leaving him to solitude.

She thought if he saw the disgrace of time passing and
still nothing, he’d be crisp sheets on a farmer’s bed; the Northern-
facing star over the farm, over the spell of what becomes.
But he did not leave for the field.

He believed she believed he would rescue the ugly story.
She believed he believed she would be beautiful, a porcelain
doll in an old woman’s cabinet. He believed he saw her coming.
She believed the only thing that could happen, did.


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