@3... in this way the future enters into us, in order to transform itself in us before it happens.@1 RILKE What hasn't happened intrudes, so much hasn't yet happened. In the steamy kitchens we meet in, kettles are always boiling, water for tea, the steep infusions we occupy hands and mouth with, steam filming our breath, a convenient subterfuge, a disguise for the now sharp intake, the measured outlet of air, the sigh, the gutting loneliness of the present where what hasn't happened will not be ignored, intrudes, separates from the conversation like milk from cream, desire rising between the cups, brimming over our saucers, clouding the minty air, its own aroma a pungent stress, once again, you will get up, put on your coat, go home to the safer passions, moisture clinging still to your spoon, as the afternoon wears on, and I miss, I miss you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DAY AND NIGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PRESCIENCE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TASTE, AN EPISTLE TO A YOUNG CRITIC by JOHN ARMSTRONG THE FADELESS CANVAS by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN WORK AND CONTEMPLATION by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE TRYST by VALERY YAKOVLEVICH BRYUSOV THE BELLES OF MAUCHLINE by ROBERT BURNS LINES [WRITTEN] IN THE TRAVELLER'S BOOK AT ORCHOMENUS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |