ONE MORE NIGHT
of no sleep.
The house creaks,
cat breath. Some
one who seems
an intruder in the
other room. After
email, smoldering,
cryptic enough
where anything
could have been
imagined, what
burned turned to
ice. Hot Austin
nights and then the
months of even
in Paris going over
your fingers that
never moved close
as in dreams.
Cold lips. I checked
e mail in terror
and only when I
stopped caring, a
blue plum card,
his “all of the
missing,” how he
looked for me in San
Antonio and even
across the table in
Austin and then
the bolt: “indeed,
why didn’t we?”