Wind Chimes ~~ anna hood

Remember Saree,
remember nights after he'd gone
how you'd perch high
above, on your balcony in the trees
and whistle, 'Coast is clear. Come over.'
and I'd come

Taking the stairs two
at a time. For a moment, just
a moment, in the liquid
green tree-top, our lips
would print secrets on crystal
glasses and we'd swirl
wine red as Satan. Horned
owls would listen and somewhere far
off in the night a wild dog
would bark. Later

We'd lie
on your smooth white bed and eat
biscotti. You'd feed me bits
of wine drenched cookies - I'd suck
your fingers while we listened to the dead
singer you liked wailin' bluesy
from the radio, her whiskey voice circling
the ceiling with painted gold stars, mixing
with our smoke, her magnolia voice dripping
onto us, onto the white ironed sheets. Your leg
on mine. Cinnamon on cream.

It's been twenty years. Twenty
years since you fed me cookies
soaked in wine. Twenty
years since those tree-top nights.
I still want you.