to a lover in eclipse

the light falls on the Western side of what we were
when we lay, tangled in hearts and minds and bodies,
the grapefruit sun off the coast of Venice making promises
it couldn't keep, and neither could we. we were sure
of our uncertainties and obligations dried the seas
on which we sailed, dust and mirages left of hungry kisses.

but you are not forgotten. not the sound of your voice,
nor the curve of your hips, nor the smell of your hair
as you lay in my arms, and the world that left us alone
showed up. malice and its own amusement marking no choice
but to bronze the soft stone we had chiseled to bear
the fading heat in a corner where the sun had once shone.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.