When they first met it was April
and they talked like April
coyly
resolutely
and like April
they walked
everywhere
a cloud in the form of her mind
kept regrouping
in the sun
he knew everything
of course
except where he was
he kept bumping
into her
into himself
but like a balustrade
the honeysuckle was there
they walked the day unaware
of weather
of where
of Rome
time was a pouty adolescent
bored out of his mind
playing astragali
chasing the gadfly
honeysuckle
in the flavescent noon
his tunic kept slipping
off his thigh
nobody was looking

___

simultaneous publication in Passager and Poetry d’Amour, 2024