So Far from That River, We Listen to a Single Storm from Opposite Sides
       

Late; pouring; thunder and longing crawl in through a window
after locking the keys in the car again;
                                                soaked, we scrape

knee-barked and furniture-spilled through this life we chose

as if any life were chosen just once,
                                      not built from a series of small choices

stacked like bricks until the wall we imagine is real.

Say we could pinpoint the hour of choosing: a summer afternoon
          by a river: hot; bored; the smell of rotten apples.

I tried to warn you,
                                      I opened my mouth,
                                                                            only heat lightning emerged:

the foolish tangle of our bodies; unzipped and touchable sky.

How I wanted to be harmless.
                                      How I wanted to dive into the passing water.

Tweet
Copyright © 2022 Amorak Huey All rights reserved
from Mid-American Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission