silence implored
by the pure weight
of words such as hers.
i lit a cigarette hoping, that
by the time of my exhale
i might have formed a response
bright enough to spark pardon
into her tone,
yet something in my smoke lungs
begged another drag -
after all,
no woman i could love,
would
cheapen her words
to the worth of
solely my response.
one thing she taught me -
no woman in the world
wants anything in the world
but to be listened to -
and heard,
the kind of heard that begs silence.
the second felt justified,
as if the first had been
the learning curve;
time but to assemble -
our past sins approaching
and now face them,
ready and patiently.
i was apologetic
that's a fact,
yet even the guilty -
comprehend mercy
deep inside themselves
wanting
there to be
something she sees -
worth letting up for air.
the third felt like subtle affirmation,
like a long stop and dinner,
then the climbing back into the truck
for the next leg of the road.
we were poised to brave the on and on.
(there is a dark side of a full moon
a danger in -
even the sunlight;
but there is joy in forward -
toward the direction of what our hearts want,
even, on the days that we don't make it there)
i lit another cigarette, we
were echoing each other's breathing
full gasps of life -
in and out
like westbound transcontinental-locomotives
nearly through the desert,
nearly home.
the fourth felt like healing
the fifth and sixth like resurrection -
yet something in my smoke lungs begged another drag,
after all,
the only woman i could love,
gave me two cigarettes
and every minute of eternity
to truly hear her, and
in so doing
form the only response
worth such a beautiful voice.
