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Lafayette.

1.

The closest I will get to California this year
will be Lafayette, Louisiana.
The scent of your hair will be
miles away from me; your arms,
too short to reach out and caress my
cheek or my hand; your lips,
far too distant for me to explore.
This gulf separates us, yet
I can cover my eyes and picture
a journey, coming to an end,
and a welcome home.

2.

If it was possible to tie two people
together and leave the bond there, linking
them despite all physical impossibilities,
you would have created this event
in hopes that soon, the vague lingering
of my tongue on your flesh would be
a reality and not a ghostly
shadow crossing your mind
as you lay back in your bed at night,
wondering what I have been doing,
stroking your head and sighing
at the thought of my touch.

3.

Hot night creeps up on you
as the bedsheets become stained with your sweat,
the window open reveals the night air
and fills with moist noises.

4.

The storm overtakes you
and you drown slowly in the depth
of the languid ocean, created
in mere minutes
and rising passionately
to a maelstrom
of your own making.

5.

Sleep now, and think
no more about the dry spell;
the waterless days that lie
ahead. Instead, sigh at the
thought of my name,
and scratch at the wisp
of hair on your neck --
soon, that will be my hand on
your nape, my breath in your
ear, my warmth around you.


kelly_garner@unc.edu
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copyright kjg 1994