When he is leaving and opens his arms around me
I know there is one place I will be small and human,
Breakable, weak, most unlike my other self.
Lips should be the most telling part. Kissing the rough,
imperfect surfaces to speak another language,
I learn how smart a silence is. And also, how
love will turn my head off like a light,
leave me stupid, thick and clouded honey.
It’s just as well I’m dumb with love—
If I thought of danger or of pain, calculated futures
or the interest gained, I would be alone.
Stephen J. Williams 