____________________________________________________________________
“As both poems are on the longer side,” Barbara said, “I’ll only recite two today.”
Closing her eyes once again... now opening her eyes...
“Thirst”
Barbara looked at me, at only me...
“I crawled into an untidy bed,
curled my bare body to his
and lay still
until his breath was
at my back,”
She looked into me...
“a soft tongue cooling
the sunburned skin
on my neck,
my round bottom pushing
closer and closer into the curve
of his body.”
Barbara's eyes saw to my soul, and my tears came...
“Spread fingers walked
the length of me,
chilled skin rising in ovation.”
Our eyes unwavering, her tears coming, hesitating, suppressing a sob...
“His warm hand skimmed
over the curve of my hip
to a waiting well–his fingers
tickled the surface and dipped
long into the warm waters
and he spoke close to my ear
words he had never spoken,
Halting a moment to bring her voice and emotion under control.
“indescribable things
said only between lovers,
and turned my body to his.”
Those about now looking from her to me: sensing our love, feeling the sadness...
“Shhh, not a word”, he said,
and took a cool sip
then plunged
the depths of the well
until –
all thirst was quenched.”
Our eyes locked, unashamed, her tears, my tears, our tears ran.
Silence!
Silence...The room silent.
Cyber Affair 15
Day Two-4: Poetry 2
The Last Night
Saturday June 18, 2009
Wanting my Barbara not to stand alone, not to stand alone in silence, rising, crossing the room, going onto the stage, bringing her hand to my lips I kissed it, then...
The matronly, middle-aged woman and the elderly man kissed the kiss of lovers.
No longer silent...
Applause filling the room, the room no longer silent.
5:48 p.m.
Barbara’s hand in mine, within throngs of people, we walked southward on the east side of Michigan Avenue for about an hour looking in windows, entering a few stores then, finding a restaurant, we had dinner.
My hand in hers, now we walked to the north on the west side of Michigan Avenue, but not interested in stores or what they may hold, our interest, Barbara’s interest and my interest on one thing only... to be together, to be alone together.
****
Face to face, beneath the blanket they lay closely together.
They lay closely together, he feeling the soft warmth of her breasts against his chest. She feeling her breasts upon his chest and the comforting contour of her stomach against his.
They lay closely together, having no need to speak.
They lay closely together, lips touching, barely, each breathing the breath of the other.
They lay closely together, both feeling the warmth of the other, their lips touching lightly, the breath of one the breath of the other, the room black, neither saw the other.
Here, now, here is what there is.
Here now, here is what there will ever be.
For Barbara and Mitchell here, now, is what they have, what they will ever have and, these minutes sacred, thoughts now not of sex, but of being... being close... being together...
Being.
Her fingers now entwined in the hair above his ear.
His fingers now entwined in the hair on the back of her head.
Spiritually held within a womb of warmth, of closeness, of love...
of future loneliness.
Softly said, “I love you.”
The veil of sleep coming to him.
Barely a whisper, “I love you.”
The veil of sleep coming to her.
1:38 a.m.
Turning in her sleep, Barbara nestled her buttocks closely into the forming contour of Mitchell’s stomach and thighs.
Subconsciously, in the well of their sleep, subconsciously aware of each the other, subconsciously aware of the closeness, of the absolute comfort of their closeness, the front of Mitchell’s thighs and legs now formed tightly against Barbara’s sharply angled backside. His arm now between her arm and side, his hand now nestling a soft, warm, sleep creased breast.
To be continued
©March 21, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman
Poetry with permission of Elizabeth J. Russo
