JARRETT MOSELEY Couples Therapy I drive us out the front gate of your neighborhood, past the stoplight where, once, I missed the light turning green because I had leaned over to kiss you on the cheek and in that extra three seconds a car barreled through the intersection at speeds high enough to kill us, and hold your hand driving toward the generic office park both of us taking turns being silent for a year the same streets and buildings turning over in our heads as we move them through us, radio on or off, doesn’t matter now though mostly off and in the parking lot we wait in the Miami summer heat I try to catch a lizard scaling a thin dead tree we take turns crying for a year, on and off occasionally holding the other’s face we believe if we keep a good grip it will not disappear.
First published in ONLY POEMS.