This Year's Model

I.

 

Hands on the bottle,

Forehead bowed to forehead--

Nothing lingered, nothing left,

There were no glances and no gazes.

 

You were the foggy green glasses,

The brown whiskey,

The still air waiting to be broken by breath.

 

II.

 

Nothing was remembered, nothing forgotten.

When you awoke, I awoke.

The wind of your scarf

Being thrown about your neck was not missed by me.

I heard keys rattling into a pocket, and the soft

Taps of feet on the hard floor.

 

When you left,

You took the kinetic charge

From the cool copper of my doorknob

In silence.

 

Reviews

[Song of Mercy]

This is a great poem and a great read. I am new at review so I apologize it is not more constuctive, but I know what I like and I definately liked this. Thanks for sharing. Barb