Donna Keesee Hobbs
A silver slice of moonlight slides
Across my pillow; weary, I fall,
Opening my eyes in another life.
Shoe sole scraping along the bricks,
As you lean against the wall with bent knee,
A shock of hair swings low, eyes hidden,
Lashes sweep your cheek, that face
I gazed into a thousand days, never knowing
What it meant to find a kindred, who
Reads my thoughts uninvited and finishes
Sentences never meant for sharing.
Tonight here you are again, so unlike the moon,
Unchanging. No line mars the brow, no silver
Shines in your temples. You laugh at me.
I wonder at the sound of you voice, the pitch
Constant as birdsong on a March morning,
As we walk unfamiliar streets.
Tires screech, I turn, and twist my fingers
In the sheets, opening my eyes.
Surprise, sadness, resignation, resolution.
That other life in the dark, gone again.
Sunbeams and dust dance together before
My eyes. The other continues outside my gaze,
Kindred still, beyond time and space.
Return to Polis 2012
Return to Poetry and Prose, 2012