a poem a day for a year #305

by Amy Turn Sharp


I met you at a party that was like a parade from a pub. It was a drizzling full moon walk down a tiny street slick with leaves.
We marched into warmth, plopping down on sofas and pillows. People gathered in the kitchen.
They moved about the room and you were to my left. Someone put on The Beastie Boys and I showed you how I could open a bottle of beer with a lighter. You stepped into my personal space. Earlier in the day my friend who was dying had told me to be bold with my love. She had said it like a dare. I put my hands on your face and told you three impossible things. I kissed you like the truth.