Solomons Summer

I knew that you were looking, shy, into the lens.
I didn't feel like a picture, turned away.
Now, your eyes, like mirrors, shout at me,
And I see that they were crying If only...

Those were the newborn days, soft and gold,
Exceedingly vulnerable; they begged us for protection.
The born-again days, the virgin days
Made us afraid to speak
While we ate cake at somebody's birthday.

In this glossy square, we are sitting on a porch swing,
Flinching at our lusty sin. The first sign
That we were growing uncomfortable in our lover-like skin:
I ate too much and you stopped altogether. Then
there was my dedication to looking away.
Committed to keeping the shot candid,
I refused to say we were trying too hard.

We're sitting with our legs drawn to our waists,
Arms clasped in circles around our knees, behind our smiles
Is a hint of something darker. I'm talking to someone's shoulder,
But I'm touching yours with mine. We're holding ourselves

More than each other. If I could make her tilt her head to whisper in your ear, I
would have her say, "relax, I finally see your point."