a morning long after an affair.

a morning long after an affair.

mikl paul

 

 

some  sway    against the warm

     forgetting  change.   some reciting of

 the early promise and the geode of your

 breast and the adventure of his tongue.

      they spin sunlight    verbatim    and

   if she ever quotes him,   it is in sweat

   and if he ever writes her name again,

   it will be in self defense.        somewhere

sinking,    she allows the memory to breach

   her     skin       no      world     no,    but

     small thefts; the scent of an abandoned

affair,        nothing threatened      but   the

  faithfulness of her thighs      and  what

was never his       resounds    homesick

   for an ending.        there is a song stretched

 out thick between them       a forest unfinished in

     the myth of    why  how  when,  now, please.

as her hands   take her want in     handfuls

   and the dawn overlooks   through the half open

   window blind while her tribute is arcing back,

 curling limbs,  and muffled cries for again, again.