Windward Review

iv. Adam.
The winter air, the summer heat; it all seems contradictory. Yet,
still seemingly surreal and natural, the heat of your hands
the isolation- no.
the immolation set fire to the woods we wandered.
Every nickel, every quarter
Tender to be tender to you
I was just as scattered. But just the same I
gathered every cent, every sense and listened to
every scent for the moment. Now
gone.
A supernova simultaneous and sordid.
Then, it all
Began.
That night the air was thick
and so was ambition. A hand on your thigh, through the
stardust into ambiguous fear.
Fear at once knew my hand, as much as it knew every hair on your face,
Every glance and I set the pace,
running, sprinting, and limping
all at once.
The way you give a look
as if it were sterling every time.
A generous hand you had, and still
I close my world, breathe in your eyes
Inhaled your glare; Let the stare coat my throat and
let it go as if I could afford more
as if I wasn’t emotionally worn; already opening another door.
I let astral bodies build, let them set
Keeping count of every single tear wept.
I held out my hand,
overworked, over-stretched and overbearing the weight of a line enjambed.
I remember the words.
The anticipation.
Keeping the wind between us warm
but never blazing.
Civility + You
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