Keeping
I will not wait for ours to turn sour,
for it will not
Long after wine fails its magic in our
systems
And laughter leaves many mouths
without a sound
Like the bright amber of evenings giving
into dark
Conversion, further turning hollow
gatherings
Into ruin. They all will go, with us in
the thick of it
Gone, but not quite. We will go through hours
Meeting and leaving numerous strangers.
We’ve named those who’ve grown fond
Of hearing useless secrets. I will
delight, instead,
In the pockets of silence in-between:
Reaching your hand and locking
them
Into mine, a furtive turn to feel
Your stare; gazing eyes taking me
Back to that place, that night
Where I know. Where you know
Our lives truly happen.
January 2010
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