how to explain the
feeling of you
next to me?
i felt it easily, that first
night when i told you about
tarantula hawks and
my first climbing lead fall
i remember leaving and
you felt it, too.
we’re sitting by the fire
on a chilly december evening,
longing to know one another,
drinking each other in.
“would it be insane if i
kissed you?” you ask in a shy way.
i think about all the ways
my heart was broken
only a few months before
think about the words i said to him,
picture them as shards of glass,
envision them in reverse, not
piercing him, not causing him to bleed
flying back into my mouth where they will
stay and never hurt him.
on this morning, i wake in your bed
and still, though it is dark outside,
a morning glow beams on the horizon
where the snowy san juans are dimly outlined
i feel close to you, feel pulled to you
(we are pulled to each other)
i leave with a loaf of bread in hand,
a tender kiss goodbye
and the promise (no, not promise)
the possibility of
a new beginning