Last Night And This Morning

In the aesthetic symmetry Of last night’s domestic tiff, We sat at the glass coffee-table On the white, right-angled sofas In our beautiful living room, Preparing to read aloud from Our friend’s new book of poems. Opening the book, you mentioned My fingerprint smudging the page. In that milieu of heightened Language and aesthetics, We were off on a linguistic Battle of our own. Who knows whether I was right To belabor your few words With my feeling that they betrayed Strong resentments you bore within? Your words’ prints on the air, Like my finger marks on the page, I’m not equipped to read. My memory, playing back Our verbal parries and thrusts Finds blurred ambiguity In everything that ensued. Emotion was leading the blind, Something inside us both Stirred by your trifling comment And my equally brief reply. After enduring the pain That always comes in the train Of a lovers’ quarrel like this, The burning became too much And our hearts began their journey Back to each other again. Curious how, in healing, Though our words began at odds, Their rhythm brought us together As last night’s led us apart. I got your e-mail this morning With its pink, exuberant hearts Gushing like a symphony And I pour back the Music to you. “May we learn from this! ” is my prayer— One that I know you share.