IS YOUR HEART STILL MINE?
I want to know what became of the things I left behind.
You? The church clock whose chime we danced to? The sofa in the middle of the room that held our dreams? Our grocery nylons? The cold walls? How did you learn to forget me? Did you sun-dry your heart? The car whose tyre we killed from our appetite? Your mother? The blankets that soaked my pain? The village gossips who knew the stars would never align in our favor? The flowers in the kitchen that stood tall with hope? The curtains that learnt to hide your appetite? My mother? What names did she call me? Our bedroom? The cabinets that hid our grief? The diamond wedding band that stole my voice? The boat we had our first kiss in? Did you sell it? The bathtub that refused my body weight? Our love? The kitchen pots that cooked lies? The alarm clock that kept love out the room? My shoes? Did you give them out? Is your heart still mine?
You order a glass of margarita & watch me sip water
from the table jar. We discuss business, your babies,
gossip about artists, & occasionally sneak in mouthfuls
of laughter to ease our colon heavy with passion. You
order a bottle of wine, our bodies thick with lust & me,
a non-alcoholic asks for a wine glass to steady my hands.
We order Lamb kleftiko. When the waiter drops our
platter, your eyes swing open, a gallery of disappointments
& pierces me. I bat my lashes to hide my desire like a nun
hides a love bite. we eat in silence, the bones on our plate
crying from a failed adventure.
& cutlery clinks & our legs under the dinner table folds
into two horizontal lines of farewell. I order a bowl of
ice cream to keep time frozen. You take your eyes off me,
& suddenly there is a woman at our table asking about your ring.
Poems © Christtie Jay
Photo by Evan Dennis on Unsplash
‘Is your heart still mine?’ is beautiful!