A late spring afternoon dims.
Its shadows pool my ankles
soft colors of sun now a buttery melt
over hills blue-black.
A hard scent, minty fresh
blows in from that dark edge
where scraps of star settle
taste of metal tart on my tongue.
His indifference settles into calm
granite her misery breaks against.
She feigns pleasure with friends
who drift in and out of days
swollen with the unsaid.
They mime love, the brush
of bodies flaccid interpretation
of music in a minor key.
She orchestrates with clumsy fervor
while he, alert to new motifs, desires different melodies.
JANET BUTLER relocated to the Bay Area in 2005 after many years in central Italy. She teaches ESL in San Francisco and lives in Alameda with Fulmi, a lovely Spaniel mix she rescued in Italy and brought back with her. Some current or forthcoming publications are Mason’s Road, The Chaffey Review, Miller’s Pond, Town Creek Poetry, and Red Ochre Lit. Her most recent chapbook is “Searching for Eden” from Finishing Line Press.