matters of the shadow & Eternal Idol

Eternal Idol, Auguste Rodin (1893) Image courtesy of Jean-Pierre Dalbéra from Paris, France via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY 2.0)

matters of the shadow 

the dim-lit street watches us –

a tangle of limbs – 

its blue prying eye tells us to be cautious

we share the pocket of air between our lips

the dip of my waist ends at the curve of your hips 

you stroke my face with tender restraint

we are co-conspirators, hunched in the shadow

speaking with love’s languid lisp

no amount of our love will ever make a baby 

sweetheart, please don’t be afraid

not of your mother, not of ‘people’, not of God, 

not of sadie who swears she’s fine with it

none of this matters in the eyes of a court, you insist

the eyes of a court have never seen anything that mattered,

let me hold your hand

when we come home to each other 

making late dinner with sore shoulders, i know it means family 

as much as a wet, bloody baby means family

it is as simple as this:

we will both try to be brave

we will both try to be reckless

***

Eternal Idol

Little boat in Italy, rocks us like a lullaby 

There you are:

Eyes closed, back arched

Bare-backed and bathing in the sunlight

Body still wet from the sea

I read next to you 

Shielding the sun with my book 

The edge of the deck cups the back of my neck

I find words on the page to say what I dare not say

I trace the faint wrinkles at its corners, crease lines of your smile

The sky cannot contain its thrill

I can see its white-hot breath in the clouds

It is trying to tell me something

It is trying to tell me about Heaven

I must have cheated death

You grip the oar by its throat

The waves pull and swallow the boat

Its sails are fluttering like a moth’s wing

It rocks, rocks, rocks us like a lullaby

I hear myself asking for things I didn’t know I could want

Now the sun has drowned,

You eat a bowl of olives, drawing your fingers across your lips

I taste their salt when you press a cigarette to my mouth

The smoke stings my eyes. 

That is the closest we ever came to our lips touching.

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Edited by Hania Ahmed, Creative Editor