I glanced it there at the back of his neck
And thought to open the handle
Using kite string and rain.
I stopped the curious feline fingers
From spreading across him to the other
Because then I would have to let him sit
On the long grey chaise
With the green pillows
Plump and ripe for body heat.
No, he stated the opposition of such things.
Regrets and sugar cubes mingled with his words.
Bolted now was my parlor.
I was quickly relieved.
Not realizing the lock was now broken
And door blown ajar by the wind.
It was too late to stop
The binding of our hands and feet
As the thunder drew near.
My other slipped across the lawn
Hiding in the shadows from the storm
To the secret window of his heart
And peaked into his soul.
Standing frozen in forgetfulness
As flesh turned to stone
Waiting outside the glass
For his wairua to gaze back at me.
