It began with an edge in her voice.
"Did you feed the cats."
An accusation more than a question,
Her tone was gravel and cement
and not the fluffy lilt I hear
when I've cooked and washed the dishes.

Then when she averted her eyes
I felt frosty pins and daggers
lurking underneath.
Not sure if they were for me,
I invited her to talk.

There was a two-second pause
that felt like an hour.
Then with leather reluctance
she said, "I guess."

My only agenda, for a change,
was to listen.
"You seem angry," I said.
"I've got needs."
About to become a brick mason,
my better nature won,
"Tell me about them."

Which she did.

"I need to be touched."
"So do I."
And so it went
for the long journey
we traveled those moments
laying next to each other in bed.
We spoke our escapes
and little needles of fear
and gray rills of yearning.

Silver coins of honesty
about our gaps and our gifts
were gently exchanged.
We reminded each other
that love is a decision
that can rise above the seabed
of our darkness.

Her anger and my fear abated.
I asked if I could touch her.
And she said
yes.

06/20/2005

Posted on 06/20/2005
Copyright © 2024 Glenn Currier