Page 43 - Contrast2004

for his lips in October, fall
so gracefully into leaves
freed from rigid limbs, wild and windblown above a laughing mouth?
Who will see those freckles scattered in Los Angeles,
remember days when forever wasn't warned
but promised? His hair will be faded by sun, sliced by branches of blond, before I believe

in something other than me. He dreams in stretches of white beaches, I believe
sand scorches the soul, that falling
s~ffocates searing grains, that laying back and breathing in this place where
his freckles, lightly salted, will leave
me with Los Angeles
reflecting in his eyes, the stale taste of good-bye in my mouth.

Over on ancient gray he opens his mouth,
while I wait for the words I want to believe.
Eternal autumn instead of California, he'll cover me like
the sunlight in Los Angeles,
I won't have to weather winter in an endless maple fall.
His autumn eyes answer, dried brittle leaves

~ant() ..i.ell()

The Awakening 41