Reflections: White Scorpion

from the hallway, outside your door,


a vigil stands; once inside, our promises

hang wasted on the “do not disturb” sign;

your guilt melts like ice cubes in a

glass of alcoholic apprehensions,

violated by a self-imposed rationale;

quivering hands remove all remorse and

courage sinks deep into retrieved passions,

now substituted for patient faithfulness;

two shadows embrace as tremors of

excitement race intermittently behind closed eyes;

heard and felt, your fury is released, imploding into

controlled spasm briefly joined with animal instincts;

proudly, you hide your nakedness from

my pathetic gaze, empty and scared,

marble eyes reject our reunion.

April 10, 1986