Instead
I wish I could say it was the
Christmas lights, but I’m not sure.
It could have been the songs.
The way you drove your car.
When I laughed into my mittens.
Just the stars in a winter night.
I wish I could say it was the
stars.
And yet I am half sure it was the
darkness – the unknown that stood
before and after the moment.
There we were: snow, snow, and us
in the dangerous part of town, the
way I wanted to lean in and say,
“Here we are.”
But I wasn’t sure enough whether
it was the songs, or just Christmas,
so I closed my eyes instead.
Resolutions
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