Tag: romance

This is a poem done differently—

Posted on by Krista Cox in Poetry 
months of letters mid-air     before 
I knew her face, many more weeks     before 
I could look at it directly 

one middle finger tracing
		the back of a middle
	knuckle		a meditation		an introduction
to touch		if you listen

past breath, you can hear the sound 
	a woman’s skin makes 
		on another’s skin:      a prayer      a welcome

the luminescence of oil:
		how she makes a body shine

	even in its earthness

		(still, sometimes, 
		I fear she’ll turn
		or return
		to ivy)

	how I hold back 
my breath, my pulse, the full weight
of my mouth, so she knows 

	my reverence and desire 
	in perfect balance

This is a poem in moments 
	kind and cautious: 
	each deliberation
	a devotion, every exploration 
	a sanctity we cannot bear
	to reduce to romance

But What, they ask me, is Romance?

Posted on by Krista Cox in Poetry 
               with a line by Regina Spektor
I stand outside a New Orleans coffeeshop
in an Indiana town, my face all summer
sun, having just decided I will let my lover
love his wife. This is how I remember
romance: a rubber band. The longing
in its pull, the welt
left by its snap.

I left soulmate on a curb outside 
an abandoned gas station, fate and destiny
its burned-out neon signs. I tucked god 
in a bright white nativity 
and walked away. I know 
there's no such thing as mine. 

But reverence. Abandon. This hulking, dramatic beast, 
roaring against its harness, my hands raw
from the leash. I know there's no such thing
as mine. Still I seek a yard  
where it is safe for him to play.