Thursday, May 12, 2005


silence deadened the last sparks between us
the words crushed and stalled in my throat
emptiness across my chest
exposing the organs
you said
things have changed we don't touch in the same way

(better poets have said
the only constant in life
is change
the sun doesn't rise or set the same way
every day
this is our world)

your hands were warm as they stroked my neck
as i lay limp
drained and alone
was your touch true or was it just
a motion
a gesture to my bleeding
(to this day i don't know)
my reciprocation failed
where was my energy
where was the heat of the negev
the loveburn of yesterday
was this your way out
was it my way out?

we had a last warm kiss
on a frozen river in laval
eyes bright brown
in the ice white wind
the sun jousting but then bending the ice fog
deep into the pine covered riverbank shoulders
the shadows of your skates masking deep straight cracks
in the new fallen snowdust
of my silence

--- e b bortz

(Montreal, January 1992)

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