Summer 2006

 

 

 


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the long walk
Matt Spillum

Before I knew what I’d lost
I had to have something to lose
and you were it, all glamour and slink
I sat down with a dead man to drink
and waited for you to finish up.
 
You laughed when I told you
we didn’t have a ride.
It was twenty below outside.
I could hardly argue with your laughter,
with the mischief in your eyes

The dead man bought my beers and
you and I set out. We carved a crunching
sugar trail that laughed and shivered.

I never minded when the
wind blew you at me.
Or the icy afterprint of kisses.

I can’t remember how long it took
all the way to your house, we
must have walked three miles.
Frozen fingers fumbled keys and
we crumpled inside
like overcoats thrown over sofas,

You about snapped me in half on the kitchen floor.

I carried you
to the bedroom when my limbs
had warmed enough.

You told me to take all the time I needed.
We knocked the window open,
hurled ourselves over the horizon to meet the Sun.
Frantic rush to heat, then a slow, steamy sweet simmer.

Saw the fuzzy backside of dawn through
a weary yawn, golden traceries of frost
tracking the wan winter morning.
It’s fading though, like the blue-grey light we dozed in.
Like the damp passionate rumple of sheets.

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