I refuse to follow until
nightfall cloaks
..........my heart-tracks
and all eyes are turned aside.

In daylight we pass each other coldly.
We wear dark glasses.
We speak in tongues and riddles,
our lovepoems coded in casual conversation or
passed under tables in larged raised letters that
must be swallowed before we part.

Islanded
raised in dark barrooms and parking lots
nurtured on subterfuge our love grows
deformed. Plans orchestrated in
hushed phone calls mis-
communicate. We grow distrustful. We grow wary.
Voices of propriety
raise haughty heads in snickering chorus:
no blossoming....without daylight
without daylight....no blossom.

Author: Susan Eisenberg