loved them in secret. But I’d rather share
mine with you: how midnight’s moonlight can bless
the river’s passing glance from trains. Your bare
shoulder in shadow calling my mouth. Black’s
sacred veil surrounding single candle’s
glow, its ebony covering your back—
curving contour calling me to fondle
you gently as touching tulip’s petal,
then with strength of night caressing our room’s
landscape. When loving silhouettes settle
in bed, as ours do now, should we presume
all earth knows we share this greatest desire,
dark things startled by how your eyes catch fire?
Roger Armbrust
April 15, 2015
