The Conversation We Didn't Have

Excuse me?

You've been wanting to know, have known
in fact, but wouldn't mind knowing
for sure. Yes,
ever since you walked in then later the water.

I never.

You don't remember our knees,
the sun drenched rocks?
The tornado that lifted a stone, gave it ten faces?

The rocks yes, but

The rocks yes, and
the back room, the spilled cup, back at your place,
the snake skin you shed, gold and black,
stained glass after I licked
sugar from your instep.

You gave me five mirrors. On the windowsill
Wild Turkey we didn't sip.
And then when you let the string loose
the red balloon a halo, it almost

But, we never.

Yes, we never, but you know it was
we who never. You,
who always knew it was yes.


Deborah Bacharach

first published William and Mary Review Spring 2009

I promised you the actual poems once they got published. Here's our first contender. The journal looks good. It's small, but everyone in it has the level of credentials I'm shooting for.