On a night when the fog looked so dense that all the forest was merely a scattering of charcoal smears on the canvas of Nothing, I walked tripping and falling. Landing on soft wet snow, I pressed my skull to the earth and gazed in wonder at the clear cold sky. The stars seduce-
Wait- come back! I was lost. It happens.
We hold our breath and hands, beneath the blankets to keep out dawn's light. Time shakes its feathers around us, squawking and chortling in our ears. Carefully, carefully, I circumnavigate your body while all the world wakes up, alive and twitterpated, restless and eager. Secrets whisper to me from beneath your skin.
They have known you since before you were born. They have always been hiding, just beneath the surface of your flesh and blood, in the ticklish spot beneath your ribs.
Before you were born they hid themselves in your veins,
where you would not see.
I say, when you cannot wish on stars
wish on streetlamps.
Another story, another romance,
another dream sits waiting at the coffeeshop
on the corner,
tapping her toes on wet, tired tiles,
watching the puddles form faces
on the streets outside.
© 2005 : Jenny Ryan