Strange Love

facing sawdust wind

we stand on red cement steps

above a frozen lawn,

spotted with the butts of old cigarettes.

silence - like a bridge over torrents

of thoughts unsaid.

the pines’ soft churning

lulls over my muted sigh.

smoke, stinging, lingers in our eyes.

a distant garbage truck heaves

through empty streets –

echoing motion of another

who does not sleep.

(briefly, i am soothed

by the largeness of night

cradling reticent earth

unsuspecting.)

“i didn’t do it,” you say.

your pallid face looks specter-gray.

(fools have faith in lamenting lies,

resounding like the strings of broken lyres

through telling eyes.)

silence – like a corpse

and then

a kiss, pendulous and halting,

gropes past hollow platitudes,

and rests gently on my cheek.

“i know you lie” i say,

glance manacled to the earth.

we turn and go inside.

(red and glowing in the lamplight

timid faith is nigh.

it lingers, persistent and unspoken,

in the dark forest of my lovers tired sigh.)