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Lovers Suspended
He was a shelter for his consciousness;
she sought to share it against the beating rain.
A platform made to carry them: transitory,
and in decay, what could it house but
this blooming mess that entangled and
wound their fingers into a drunken sailor's knot.
She pressed her head to his head and
was deaf, but only to the external,
because it had nothing to do with him.
Happy to be pinned against fabric, he'd
dangle his limb and finger the carpet, hoping
to claw out the roots of their cultivated stay.
Maybe he could draw her away, and they'd go
somewhere prettier than here had ever been before.
But maybe left for later. They
had this beautiful 'now', in this bed,
together until the random struck and tore
a thumb-sized hold in the ropes holding their bridges aloft.
