I see you now on the front steps of our apartment
standing there in a cone of yellow light, a thickness
of moths swirling around you. They clink their bodies
against the bare bulb
over our door. You
hold onto your elbows and lean against
the wall.
Do you think you look mean
standing like that?
The shadow of your hat hides your face but
your mouth does not look mean
to me.
Your chin and your arms and your knees
peek from the shadows. Your body
could be a statue that I left against the wall.
I love when you're illuminated, yellow
as a memory,
bronzed in the porch light
and still.
Comments
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He sounds mean to me!
This reminds me that I'm...well...puffy!~)
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