|Arsenic Lobster poetry journal||
|What We’ll Do
Inside the meaning of desire hides the idea patience.
I hold your last breath in my cupped hands. Yesterday
when we met the sky discovered us like a child finds
two bisque dolls in the shop window, and the clouds stopped
skimming, came closer for a look, stunned and unmoving.
But we’re malleable, blinking mammals, not porcelain
and we knew no one would own us. Patience.
Even tethers can break when hard pressed.
Hay spun into threads can become a metal. The breath
in my hands escapes, becomes gaseous.
Tomorrow the echoes will fade and our freedom
will be secure. Entwine your legs in mine.
We’ll break windows, bake bread, share kisses
tinged with electricity and the clouds will thunder.
About Kristin LaTour