November 7

by Peter J. Harris
from a prompt by Beth Marquez

The forecast calls for pain
—Robert Cray

shoulders aching
inches from goodbye
squatting Arroyo Seco boulders
tortured foreheads tilted in
fractured intimacy

a kiss could resurrect me
heal my palsied mouth
hold off epic flood already
misting my view of receding
horizon in her beloved face
keepsake face of so many
nights my name a guitar solo
of pleasure & satisfaction
her name in wailing gratitude
beyond any lyrics I've ever sung

keepsake flood plain
we've skipped across these same boulders
sculpted by galloping waters in rainy seasons
of confessions & sensuality

namesake flood plain
sitting in for all places we've hiked
while savoring touch on narrow pathways
unraveling esoteric conversations sensing family in the wind
daring to glimpse our future on a sunset's horizon

forecast calls for pain
a momentum in opposite directions
a locomotion of unstoppable emptiness
water nowhere
not to sip nor to soften earth
we could muddy & smear on our forgiveness in a ritual of reunion

her mouth a pool of salvation
if we weren't drowning in this final telling
inflamed in our dreaded knowing
hunger too exhausted to wait for rain