In the after
math of differential
events
equations of beginning
past tense and present
structural sentiments
to keep the language breathing
thin letters, strung on thinner
phonic wires:
integrity
hope
and
(always and)
a sense of you
float the space
between before
and begun–
a risk
worth making
When it ended
(just past midnight, if you’ve forgotten)
I couldn’t breathe to look at you
(which might’ve been because
I lost my inhaler in someone’s car-
but maybe not)
Instead I closed my eyes
(to stave off the asthma I’m sure)
Turned my head
And waited
(if you could call it waiting,
the three beats it took you to cross the room)
For your breath to slide in my ear
And down my neck
(you never could keep your head still)
With a whispered, “I’m sorry”
(if there’s a phrase to change the world,
it’s not that)
And I shrugged as someone began the count down
(as if we had Times Square
instead of handfuls of confetti)
Which reached zero before you asked
(lips harmlessly hovering near my hair)
“You sure you’re ok?”
(as if it made a difference one way or the other)
But I didn’t bother to reply
I was past midnight,
And you?
Just my darkness before dawn