A poor — torn heart — a tattered heart —
That sat it down to rest —
Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day
Flowed silver to the West —
Nor noticed Night did soft descend —
Nor Constellation burn —
Intent upon the vision
Of latitudes unknown.
Little Drummer Boy (1981/2014) (Boney M.)
When we got out to the parking lot the cars all had a thin sheet of ash on them. Lev didn’t notice. We drove back in silence. I didn’t know if he wanted to sleep over and I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to. I didn’t want his sweat to soil my bare mattress.
'Where do you live?'
'Over the hill,' he said.
'Can I see?'
The night was going away and the sky was turning a bright blue. At the horizon it was the bluest, brightest. I wanted to say azure. It was the first time I’d seen it this blue in a long time. It got darker and darker behind me. There was one star and one moon and the palm trees looked black against the sky. They were long and slender and swayed in step. It looked like a postcard and I wanted to be in it.
He said no. He dropped me off in front of my apartment and said he’d see me later. He kissed me as I fumbled with the door handle. I could taste the soup. I could taste the meat and gristle. The sprinklers were on and I tried not to get my bare legs wet as I got out. He drove away and turned down the street toward the Twin Palms and I knew that’s what he was leaving me for.
~Karolina Waclawiak [buy]