Our missives electronic. We are safe then
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for now, from the electricity between us,
The undeniable spark that passes at the
Dinner table while someone passes the salt
And you – me, the potatoes, our hands
imperceptibly touching, eyes unnaturally averted.
Does anyone notice? And how about later
when I find my way up the old marble
staircase to the coatroom check so full of
warm winter cashmeres and 1940s mink
scented with the spice of Youth Dew and
incense. Does anyone suss the two
of us missing. That this is not coincidence.
How much were we willing to risk …
We hide amidst the racks, giggling as children,
You so gently lifting my skirt to unhook
the snap of each stocking
and I, trembling with trepidation, with
fear, unsteady in my buckled dance shoes;
you already so aware of this power me.
You were always older. Even growing up
you played your trump, always calling my
bluff. You were my kiss, lips slightly parted,
You let your gentle tongue slip;
I took you in as one accepts a communion wafer, thinking that whatever we did then would be absolved.
You of course upped the ante, Defying me to do
same, knowing full well I’d take your bait. Anything but let you win, but god, I must confess
I have loved you forever.
That you were my first, second, third, how many times?
That for any boyfriend I had, their love
seemed childish and weak compared to
ours that run rich with the blood of the kindred.
Not one could match this love
and you knew it just as you
know it now. Stockings half-down,
you raise my grey-pleated skirt, all business,
lay down for me your coat, “because
The floor is cold” you say and because
I can never deny you, I take you
to me, committing every deadly
sin, but somewhere, somewhere, there
must be some god who smiles.
bears witness to this hushed moment
as we move beneath the coats and just
as I am to… and shout your name, your hand
reaches to cover my lips before they
they shout your name aloud, before
I shout to your palm a thousand hushed amens.