Escort

Escort

In the baseboard gap between

your past and my future,

I wish you the citrus tease of magnolia

I unhinge its stubborn finger and

crack it with an explosion of

mourning doves, squeaky

wingflaps whispering the

top of my head I

did not expect this,

did not expect the pillow of your kiss,

the golden frame of hair under the

streetlight, the backward glance.

I rest my hand along mustard stucco arches,

your three-way turn, the flash of a

hand under glass, my arm rising in the air,

one half of a capital T.

From Michael J. Vaughn: Collected Poems

Notes: Sometimes the best moment in a relationship is the last moment.