Look over your shoulder for the hustle of words.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Rinse

Cleaning out the fireplace
after Christmas day
he flicked some hair from her face,
left some ash and the smudge looked
just like a heart shape.
She laughed, her dark eyes flashed
and soon they were a tangle
of limbs and linen.

Flat on the tiles
and listening to the scatter
of water all around them
he watched her rising from him
and falling back down
and he saw the way the light
reflected from her teeth
when she pulled back her lips
to shriek

and he thought
ah, ah, this will all be the same
in two years or sixty
when she is limping and when I
can't remember her name,
we have derailed time's inertia -
It will all be the same.

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