two hundred twenty- seven

when we step back and out
and find green again in our world
the wintertime chill in summertime air
we begin to notice the change in rhythm
the change in need and desire
the longing for one, a need for a body to be pressed against ours
is as much about love as it is about heat
and being afraid of the unknown dark that lingers just outside
and the need for words is silenced by the glow of the fire,
the noises of the bullfrogs in the morning

two hundred twenty-six

lips stained red, despite the licking,
the cleaning of all the evidence
of red wine and hints of romance,
she sits on the train
short coming undone
and sangria sinking in
this is just a moment in time
it is passing as we read the words
and the night falls deeper into darkness
and when we next wake
she will have faded once again
only the outline of red lingering
lasting on our skin