The Innisfree Poetry Journal www.innisfreepoetry.org by Dave Malone
Constellations
That springtime evening, the Virgo constellation let go her wheat and blazed a prairie fire across the sky. We parked inside her streaming, starlit shadows of the one-room schoolhouse then wandered down to creek’s edge because it was the end of March and the bugs had not come on. Smooth stones hummed warm in the blankets of our palms before we skimmed them across the water, slow and deep. We knew you’d sleep against your fiancé next month and tell him nothing. Tell him nothing, our hands empty of rock and river locked together like the singular spread of waves. Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication |