Darkness in the other room is too heavy
The luminous rectangle drones on
The evening news — Ukraine, mayhem, Texas
The silence between us weighs my soul like lead
I say something, something stupid, something like
“You could stay, you know, you —“ . . . I busy myself
In the kitchen, cleaning up, putting things away
Anything to avoid the obvious helplessness
“You never say anything, why is that?” I don’t know
Tick-tick the clock on the wall tick tocks
You remember? I do. Rio, the beach
Your body against mine, mine against the sand
“Babe,” you said, “I could never let you go.”
Your satin skin your gorgeous muscles
The stubble of your cheek against mine
as we kissed. “What was that you said?
I missed it, what you said.” Nothingness
“I will miss you, you could stay, you know.”
No, I know — how it is. Things change. We all
Change. But your body, your supple muscles
Has it always been just that? Your body?
I am so confused but you said “I will never leave”
And now, by and by, it is goodbye.
A door closes, not a slam, just closes
The darkness stays, the heaviness, the TV
“. . . another mass shooting in Texas . . . ”
R. Neal Peterson
2022.0524