cold

too cold to walk back into rooms locked 15 years

looking at the brilliance of the bed like a snowdrift

the calm crackle of the fire and his hands all over you

the body holds things like that sea

this was the year that held the turn

15 years on.

you could look at a face and see it, see

smiles again, see eyes, see mirth begin to rise

inside in a hot sun day

it isn’t good to mourn the past

not 15 whole years of cold

not 15 whole years later

not now that you begin to feel release

body aching itself alive again

~