Windows Elsewhere

We made love.

Not mad, passionate, impatient love,

groping, ripping, sweating...

No, with slow-moving, undulating,

time-relinquishing caresses

we stoked a fire from tinder

left to dry ages ago

when we were young

but did not understand

what it was to love.

Afterward we lay down

amid the cushions.

not quite touching,

head to toes,

and in the bottle by our bed,

I saw what we had done,

opening windows elsewhere

as we warped time to

fit our flight toward

 greener fields and sanity.

© Nyuka Anaïs Laurent    30.01.2010