Rites for a Love Affair

a year lost. but the taste! you go willingly to a sweet doom heavy with nectar!

When the moment arrives, I am on my road and fearless and country and rich. we cross, we speak with our hush intentions wave to one another strolling the bridges between our eyes and lips. Jealous daylight went home and night emerges with the moon in its eye

smoking clouds across the sky we press together, squeeze night between us there is heat which runs through my veins, slow like the nectar of ripe fruit I wonder if you feel the same—in the dark I close my eyes and see the heat in you, glowing but say nothing.

In the morning you smile at me, your lips are like the hands of a thief, what luck! To be waylaid by you, you have robbed me, stole my weight, maybe I am poorer but now I can fly.

Wealth is when I am floating because of you and my wisdom becomes gold falling from torn pockets

we walk and walk together willingly, a joyplant now grows where bliss is more plentiful than safety so everything in the world, its shadow fills with silver and even the chilling days are wondrous, the days are fed by laughter, kept alive with the slightest gestures, soft kissing on the wrists, soft kissing behind veils and on the inside of thighs.

Watching you walk with me, your movement is music whose harmony plants warm sighs in my chest. we walk and walk together willingly, knowing that for pairs like us there are firing squads waiting at the road’s end

there is a moment on the way to me where without you, I will become a nation in mourning where I will run from delicious memory whose taste brings rainclouds to rest under the surface of my cheeks—just so… and thunder to rest in my ears where it will make a song like honeybees in summer fertilizing the next harvest of ripe moments, I wish for you fresh fruit too—even as I am pulling up seeds sprouting here

rootless, we could heal—do you think? What I will do is this: take the absence of you and shape it into a compass.

I will take walks on stars and journeys across black seas, hoping eventually the steps between us will become an elixir, slow, good rain for hungry earth.

-D. Verrtah

 
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Editor’s Note*
I had the pleasure and honor of having a really short and hot and very steamy love affair with a brilliant and young African American poet once.. And when we patted ways he wrote me a poem. This is that poem.