Poem in April

byJames Thomas Stevens
How fiercely my silence rushes down that path
where the stars test themselves in the near perfect dew.
I didn't expect you or your queer embrace
but suddenly sunning each other at night - Potawatomi
lifting my T-shirt to pinch my heart.

Between the overpass and the undertow, the Kaw running clear.
Two natives watching the universal light of sadness,
where it sweeps the water's edge. Your thick hair, your smooth hands,
masters of a heady scent, smelled of river mud and blossoms.

Whispered, We are not historical, just alone.
But holding your dark face in my hands,
I feared that when we left those woods, the wonders of the world
would be dust before we reached them.
The cities, like paradise, would never let us in.

© 1998 James Thomas Stevens
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