You never articulate the past
as if having one were
an option
and you had ticked ''no''
in the required box.
Its trace lingers though
a lilac scent
beneath the bittersweet
of coffee breath.
You are caught within
the stark truth
of a single
beam of sunlight
shafting through
the kitchen window
impaling you
upon the black-wood bench.
I don''t ask questions
only answers
and you give them
willingly
urgently
back arched in a question mark
chasing my inquiries back
into my mouth
sealing me
with a kiss
Later
we will
walk the silence
along Lygon
stretching its legs
letting it run ahead of us
unleashed
and likely to stray.
