I didn’t want it to be like this
you hanging by your teeth from my breast
and my not wanting to kiss you.
How the being of neglect walks alone through the hills
black cloaks and woodland creatures falling all around
my feet
the birds have come to nest
the birds have come to die
for lack of air in my lungs.
I could watch you spinning for as long as it takes
to stand the earth still
and freeze the clouds overhead in place,
write to me of the darkness you see. I want
to read the words you choose.
I bathe in cool darkness,
shower and dress and tug at my
neck
in darkness
line my lips and my eyes and stain my cheeks
with the smut and the ink
of the darkness in which
we dare not between us
speak.
.
.
Allison Marie Conway 