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Photo © 2024 Jennifer Wagner |
There are places
my heart goes to,
cracks in the earth
softened by sunrise
or sunset.
Remember those pink cookies
we’d get on the way to work
to share over coffee?
I haven’t had one in years,
but here they are,
hanging like a sun
from a tree.
Perfectly round, like fruit,
to pick, to share,
to illuminate the darkness
we’ve been held in for too long.
Aristotle’s kiss
has been long and deep.
All that salt
needs something sweet.
Meet me here before
the blue-black of night,
before crow-dark feathers
creep cold across our eyelids.
It’s nearing sunset.
I’ve one plate,
two halves,
and
coffee’s waiting.
Reference: “Men cannot know each other until they have eaten salt together.” -Aristotle
