by LB Thompson

rain unpeels from wheels or treads

ominous pause before wind begins

tell me, how could love be any different

bodily love at some precipice

when the holding is stronger

than the flourish of release

            outside, the wind over and over shows

            the pale undersides of maple leaves

the release, not the holding means

but this is a palpable bonding that refuses to fuse

separation is a more conscious choice

first one, then the other loses interest

            venerable maple trunk squeezed by rain shined ivy vines

            downed limbs cracked, softened nearly to pulp

features praised now fade

the freckle on the stretched neck

that wanted kissing and was kissed

now assimilates in a night wash

            even the ivy lets go

            its whisker claws unclench the bark

even the nodes pinched

into life a moment ago

do not shine out

possible to see morning’s blurred blue

            the electricity does not thrum

            the clocks have nothing to say

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LB Thompson's poetry has won national awards from The Mrs. Giles Whiting Foundation and the Rona Jaffe Foundation and has appeared in The New Yorker and other literary journals. Her collaborative work with artist Ellen Wiener has been exhibited in New York and at Vanderbilt University. LB teaches at Suffolk County Community College and The New School/Parsons in New York City. She lives with her wife and book collection in Greenport, NY.