Doing Yoga In the Dark
Doing yoga in the dark
long before sunrise.
I heard a noise
out in the street,
a wayward son comes home.
A car door opened, a muffled laugh,
a quiet female voice,"...tomorrow.",
a closed door clunk, a departing car,
and then silence for a moment.
I heard the grind of garage door spring,
and the creak of back door screen.
I heard the quiet surreptitious trek
through kitchen, hall and past
my darkened room.
I then heard the door close to his own,
attaining sanctuary.
In his airy wake, as I practiced
my asanas, I caught the
sweet subtle scent
of a memory,
long submerged,
of a similar trek
made many years ago.
Through the kitchen, hall and home
I had gone, desperate
to avoid discovery.
I believed that I was
bathed in an electric glowing
plasma of heat and sweat,
in short, an insidious
perfumery.
I was overwhelmed by my senses,
incapable of speech,
desperate to avoid encounter,
determined to attain
my own sanctuary.
Once gained, my thoughts then turned
on how to retain the vestiges of the night.
The smell of clothes, the damp
of secret places and lingering perfumes
were savored with the still vivid
memories of moments of sensual unreality,
ecstatic good fortune and dreams
of what, "...tomorrow.", might bring.
All these memories past and
much more, came to me on the
tendrils of a scent,
while doing yoga in the dark
Copyright © Ahellas Alixopulos | Year Posted 2007
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