February Thaw

 
 
The lights off in the house,
children dream warm and smell of sweat.
I lie awake, your
parallel—motionless,
listening to the dark.
Outside, crowded maple trees
soften themselves and glisten.
Weeping, they unroll their leaves.
Your breathing descants,
I aspirate my counterpoint,
the darkness within so full of longing
and without—sap runs
wet down trunks.
I recall your skin like the memory
of a dream I cannot remember
having. Darkness, deep divide:
The space between us
is no metaphor—
 

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Joshua Scott-Fishburn

JOSHUA SCOTT-FISHBURN teaches Humanities and Writing at Waring School in Beverly, MA. He is a poet, community activist, fisherman, citizen of Gloucester, carpenter, trader of ideas, and a lover of the genuine, a seeker of beauty.

Latest posts by Joshua Scott-Fishburn (see all)

• February Thaw - February 12, 2020