Occulted

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

The chimeric afternoon

Lifts its head, as I venture out

For the first time in three days.

I mask my face against the belladonna air,

Each step feeling modestly feral,

Each sifted breath more defiant than the last.

It occurs to me, as the swift, April wind

Spindles through my hair:

There is nothing I wouldn’t give

To lie with you in the cherry-blossom-petaled grass,

Hands clasped, holding on

Through an uncertain, occulted future.

What I wouldn’t give

To Netflix with you in bed,

Blankets warm, lights off. If only you were here.

If only you existed.

What I wouldn’t give to be vivified by a kiss.

As it is, each step slows in the miasmic

Walk back to what I call home.

I climb the steps, turning to look for you

One last time. I open the door. I close the door.

I walk into my spell-bound apartment

And sit on the couch.

I do not look out the window,

Passed the magnolia tree,

To the sidewalk below,

To see if you spirited home with me. Instead,

I remove my mask, I close my eyes,

And merge back into the sonorous silence.