Aloneness Is Next to Godliness, and: Indian Summer
- Aloneness Is Next to Godliness, and: Indian Summer
Aloneness Is Next to Godliness
I didn’t say I loved you but I did and also him, the one who stole away, with all my sacraments wrapped in his curling laugh, thief of my night. We find ourselves together, cobbling a mystery of fleshes and regrets dressed as desires. You do not want the light on, I want it off; the same, but different. I know my own sins only.
We use each other as shields for losses, for purified rites we cannot will into substance, attempting an alchemy of bodies into redemption or any tarnished virtue; obsession an immaculate conception.
Lose myself, explore you, find him. The breath is much the same, though skins differ in terrain, in taste. We take this host, belief beaming from shuttered eyes to make faith; searching for what is already known, but has merely been divinely misplaced. [End Page 168]
Indian Summer
When you are young, and he kisses you from the side.
The muscles in his jaw— I see them. The infinite desperate stretch of his, rendering the whole of blunt language insufficient.
And you, where our mother’s face softened; good times when work was done, house cleaned, a Thursday night of cheap tacos.
It was never so simple as then.
Except here, you beaming his intensity out to all of the plains.
These are hardscrabble days but then surprise kisses bloom like Indian summers, wild and glorious, echoing backward and forward too. [End Page 169]
Aaron Glover’s first chapbook, Bio Logic, will be released via INF Press this winter. His poems have been presented by Chicon Street Poets and Illya’s Honey. He holds an MFA in acting from the University of Houston and has taught theatre and directed at Texas A&M University.
