Some days, we traded sharpened glances, and took a long walk from the places we have been; the kitchen, the bedroom
and the crooked parts of yesterday
Some nights, we exchanged brief nods and silence,
and rolled to the sides of our bed;
and gave out our cravings for dents on the bedside — that pried out from our ears
because our mouths were shut too tight
Some days, we would not notice the moon soaking into thin curtains;
we were distracted by the details of our bodies; our fingers, our mouths, our tongues
We visited these places, but we did not bend into all shapes that grow there
We had a way of twisting sharp-edged glances into revisited admiration for each other
We had a way of removing our teeth to give way to soft words that matched the pull
we hid behind our backs,
We frequently chose love —
to arrive at compassion wholly in the morning,
We frequently chose love —
to arrive at forgiveness within these places
We frequently chose love —
to arrive at understanding on quiet days.
