Love is All

January 19, 2020

 

From buildings painted grey and blue like wedding spoons,
we fell out like teeth. How desperate of it to stick, to become

the aftertaste of itself, this love. The dog wags himself out
of your daughter’s arms. We holed up with boxes, without hangups,

putting the animal down. We let eyelet curtains turn to ghosts.
In the old movies, someone smiled wide through their tears

and was received like a parade of pageant girls. But we just cry,
inglorious, ever the picture you never noticed in the living room.

The slogan of lovers is briefly debated. Stage fright, someone says,
nailing their hand to the wall. Forgiveness, says another.

And there is a pause. It is enough. Pages curl away into nothing,
you hold onto your breath and my coat. There is a pause. It is.

Suzanne Highlan

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