Other Lovers

Swift is the blood pulse
Beneath your naked skin
Of paper - wet, stretched
Fragile, but firm to touch.

By the slant window
The sun flies west
Jealous moon, bleached light borrower
In cool pursuit
At six am, they switch again
Pursued and hunter
One or the other
Tireless, til Time's end.

You too, are tireless
Kissing me awake
Night or day
Day or night
The stopped wall clock keeps watch
At six o'lock.

We were not the first, are not the last
Lovers, others
Will too, find
The hidden gardens we have known
In dusk summer
In silent winter
In red-twine fall and spring's bloom
Purple iris will reach to tickle
Their ears and fingers
To delight their sense of beauty
These other lovers.

But not you. Not I.
In youth's first flush
Of folly delirium.
We will never be as we are
Now. Fragile.

© Wenee Yap