Audience
It was a suspension
of droplets spinning; it was
the grass laughing;
it was watching
the crowd jangle through
conversation, eat and chuckle
and forget you (maybe)
with the aftertaste of punch.
You saw me (or didn’t see me) but
I sat alone on a damp rock.
It was feeling your hands
In the growl of your saxophone;
It was no words; it was
my bones smiling;
it was hating the absence of applause.
I thought (maybe)
You really did love me,
and it wasn’t just something you said
when you knew
I was listening.
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