Interlude

The night was slippery, glass windows squeaked,
fingertips slipped off skin. Humidity paused
between layers of still air, only to slowly leak through.
The house was raised up on stilts
to avoid flooding in the rainy season,
even so, snakes nested beneath the raised floor.

We turned off the bedside lamp,
a mask of darkness dropped from ceiling to floor,
our breathing synchronized,
though we did not speak,
We were both trying hard
to read each other’s thoughts.

We had made love earlier.
the bed sheets were damp with a tepid fever.
Our passion had been uncentered,
it felt off kilter, tilting into a passionate indifference,
an invisible wall had risen between us,
even as our bodies curled and coiled.

It was cool on the veranda,
the dawn had climbed above the trees,
the jungle was falling asleep at last.
An old Thai lady rang her bicycle bell,
offering small sticky breakfast cakes.
I was hungry, you were not.

Later, I left for the night train to Bangkok,
when I returned
our house on stilts had walked away.

poetryfree verse

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