After “A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream”
as when, last night, the stop of my stomach
slammed shut on my throat, latched & unforgiving,
hardening into a smooth, solid stone.
As when, our words (once lovely and lithe)
fell upon their swords, cutting into ribbons
all we so cunningly wove. And coursing
love never did loom smooth, but still I
did not leave. My hands found yours. And—somehow—
we were granted a reprieve: confusion
cooled and love once again surfaced, settling
my stomach back in place, drawing your lips
back to mine, and what sweet ardor, what
comely grace, in lovers reunited
after so cruel an almost-fate.