Moon in Aries
“I want to have more Chinatown days with you.”
another bar
another Sunday
and yet
another plate of crumbs
I’ve been slipping you loaves over the past ten months
under the love of streetlamp poems
and pillow talked prayers
You met me in October
fragile boned broken bellied
stigmata bruised and beaten
through the fleshing of both palms
Saintly aspirations filled my nights those days
guiding repentant nocturnal sinners
on bloodied bended knees
For love given softly will soften as well
a mythology a fallacy an untruth I believed
we grieved
we moaned
we tangled drunken limbs
and all the while
I was in the kitchen
baking bread for you to eat
“I want to have more Chinatown days with you.”
Your own whiskey words after a month of sanctioned silence
you prepare me another plate of crumbs as if nothing has changed
We made that Canal Street pilgrimage on a mid-March day
after a late-winter morning hiding under navy bedsheets
we talked we didn’t fuck didn’t undress didn’t kiss
just shared skin beneath layers
of clothed concerted tenderness
cradling bodies begging to be smoothed
to be held down and embraced
but we didn’t
we didn’t
it would’ve ruined everything
and maybe
that was the most love
that you were able to offer me