The warmth of those twelve-string guitars,
the melancholy of the echoing organ,
a solitary Shabbat.
Two weeks ago,
across the water,
we lay together,
(attracting angels, you wondered),
casting tender shadows
on our flesh and fur-
strong hands meeting strong hands
as that breezy rain of early June
fell onto silent sloping streets
and that iceberg-trod harbor.
You are free, and so am I.
But tonight we talked about bat milk and
Wilma Flintstone's rock pearls, and
I crave your hipbone against my hand.
ADRIAN SLONAKER works as a copywriter and copy editor in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, with interests that include vegetarian cooking, wrestling, Slavic languages, and 1960s pop music. Adrian's poetry has appeared in Uut Poetry, Zingara Poetry Picks, Plum Tree Tavern, Amaryllis, Ginosko Literary Journal, and others.
READ AND LISTEN
Issue 12 #CompanionPlaylist