Our Cold, Exclamation Point!

My face slid across your slap

like a glass hydroplaning on

the counter and slung me

straight-on in a frozen glare

that would never be softened.

We broke that day.

My face slid across memories

of how we met; revisiting the joy

of dancing off-duty.  You were

the best White Boy I ever saw

do the “Snake”!

We loved those days in

Wurzburg, Germany.

My face slid across the cracks

in your ice, which followed me

like warnings under skates that

the thin-skin I was on and in

could not hold this weight.

But wait, we promised!

My face slid across our timeline,

backward, forward, to infinity and

beyond, and I imagined you

remembering to come back

to say “I’m sorry”.

I truly hoped for that.

My ears landed on Tracy Chapman’s

song, Humming like a cool omen;

“Sorry, is all that you can’t say,

but you can say Baby…”

I knew that day

that the blue-gray ice finally

cracked and we are ALL frigid still –

yes, frozen shards of ancient

hunters and gatherers




© Reneé Marie, October 14, 2015