Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Blackbird at First Light

Turning toward the gorge, your lips

brush mine.  A kiss, or almost a kiss.  One.  The first.


In return, I kiss you twice.  Water falls.  Mist sprays.

Our lips touch.  Then touch and touch again. The thrill


wakes me. I pull the covers over my head, hunting

in the darkness for you.  In vain.  A blackbird


sings at the window.  Won't let me slip back to you.

In the next room, you sleep alone.  At breakfast, we meet


again.  Your lips and hands flutter eagerly. Beside you,

shivering in the heat, I'm glad.  Electricity


lingers on my lips.  On the window ledge, the blackbird

picks at and pushes something glittery:  perhaps


a scrap of dream, with its pattern of interwoven starbursts.

A bit of shattered sunrise.  You look


not at the bird but at me.  Your lips pause by my ear.

Almost close enough to kiss.







Mary Stebbins

For Keith, remembering Niagara

6A, 2/11/04; 5A, 12:20 AM; 4Vv, 10-3-02; 3D, 8-30-02; 2A, 7-14-02; lst, 7-2-02

(see 3F, different version?)

Sent to Turtleink Tuesday, August 14, 2007

1 comment:

Marie said...

I love how you "capture" seemingly elusive moments with your words. I can envision her grasping to keep the beautiful dream alive.