Maybe One Night I’ll Be Asleep And

I Stand Here Waiting. To Disappear Or Sing.

We Got Quiet. The Garden Was Combing Her Hair And Putting On Earrings. The House Was Full Of Dancing Creatures, Not Male And Female But Both, Two Lovers In One Body. The Books Downstairs Were Reciting Their Poetry To Each Other, Rubbing Together, Whispering Through The Leather Covers. Wine Was Flowing Through The Water Pipes. You Had Caught My Leaping Heart In Your Hand Like A Fish.

Dear Angel Juan, You Used To Guard My Sleep Like A Panther Biting Back My Pain With The Edge Of Your Teeth. You Carried Me Into The Dark Dream Jungle, Loping Past The Hungry Vines, Crossing The Shiny Fish-scale River. We Left My Tears Behind In A Chiming Silver Pool. We Left My Sorrow In The Muddy Hollows. When I Woke Up You Were Next To Me, Damp And Matted, Your Eyes Hazy, Trying To Remember The Way I Clung To You, How Far Down We Went. Was The Journey Too Far, Angel Juan? Did We Go Too Far?

Metaphors Are An Interesting Example Of Creating Magic In Prose.

There’s Nowhere To Escape,” Dobey Said, Jamming His Hands Into His Pockets And Staring Into The Valley. That’s Not True, Baby,” Said Desiree. She Took His Hands And Pulled Him To Her, Wrapping Her Legs Around His Torso. She Could Feel The Sobs In Both Of Them, But Quiet, Silenced By The Kiss. They Could Escape Inside Each Other.