Together we fall and together we lie,
You and I, spent, empty as clothes
Hanging on a line.
Silence in our mouths, stone-still our tongues,
Belying frantic blood. Speaking for me here,
Because I can’t speak for you; anything I say
Likely would be the opposite of true.
You keep your dreams yours, I’ll tend to me and mine.
The scent of sweat in your hair, the way your shoulders shine with brine.
Would be nice if it mattered.
But my thoughts are elsewhere—
Somewhere my body is not supposed to go—
And there they are not alone.
David Manning lives with his wife in Nashville, TN. He has been previously published in Anderbo and Bat City Review.
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