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Unlove
by
Stan Howes
Perhaps if I had unsaid
the said
or said the unsaid
brought gifts or denied them,
hadn’t touched her thigh
or kissed her before lunch.
Perhaps the letter would
have been better unwritten,
unsigned, unsent
and the scent unscattered
among
the commonplaces of emotion
the tales of emotion have filled
and spilled in the spuming
streams.
So we walk unbroken,
unpassioned
days in the mirrors of windows,
unsaid, unsent, unscattered,
until.
------
Stan Howes
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