I like the illusion of ageing
when it is confronted by history.
silver heels and short black skirts;
skinny-dipping under the moon
away from sleeping guardians;
mattress diving in his bedroom
his mom watching TV outside the door;
pressed against the stone wall
for the first time, breathless.
those mom jeans and loose sweaters
whisper of the days beneath them
when I was more water snake
than evergreen tree.
Leave a Reply