what we are

by Amy Soricelli

I am the fresh walls painted soft-stroked -
deep past the buds with their round glow of dots along the edge...
the border like sun-streaked hair/flowers clean off the vine.
it is between the grey the black the loud fast push that we see who we wear on our faces
our eyes blinking the pain between the tight fluttering lids.
you are the trapped wind howling down a tunnel - small winds catching sparks...
light sparks -
calling me in whispers soft voices in tender vowels only the trained lover can hear.
we squeeze like silence between the buildings -
brick on brick piled strong in the air -
its ashes wide at the mouth -spring trapped in its corners,
and us in snow-covered coats huddled against the suddenness of love.
we leave a path with our heavy shoes down some street..
some random avenue curling up tree sides and down again.
it is not lost on me the sparkle of you.
the once in a blue moon side-line love affair i have with every step you take.
i create songs in my head and paint colors in the air and they stay.
they stay.