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Tradition of Oral History
Tradition of Oral History
There is a story my sister tells
on some restless summer nights
when she has come to visit
and the children have been put to bed
and she and I have remained—
slouched on the porch, staring out
over the cow pasture, sliding off
into that hour of night when the air
has that creamy smell of cedars
and all the years we have spent
watching them surge up and out
into this unusual world. Like all legends,
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Hummingbird
Hummingbird
To this day
she does not know
she was my first
because, by the time
we met, I was old enough
to have learned to lie
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Yesteryear
Yesteryear
We finished. The room came to rest
around us. She dressed in moonlight.
The next day we met. Coupled
in her mother’s car. Stumbled
through the mechanics of it. Lips.
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Sometimes
Sometimes
the sound of rain
has become
that assonant murmur
of bustling
train stations,
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Comments: 4 | Tags: Love, We Call This Thing Between Us Love