Frost at Midnight

Frost at Midnight

There, on the floor of your flat, I kissed you,
Thinking thoughts of the mostly-saved: don't leave me here--
Not now, when the lion threatens and darkness descends.
Because I could not stand to think anymore I fell back

There, on the floor of your flat, and kissed you
Once more for Keats, another for Coleridge,
with Conrad and Kipling standing by.
We spoke volumes of Donne and hinted at Byron

There, on the floor of your flat, where I kissed you
While my little-girl-anne-of-green-gables-Romantic-man dreams
Leapt to life, long forgotten, hurriedly wiggled into
twinkle-twitter
Party clothes and dance-clapped darling hands at the spectacle

Of me there, on the floor of your flat, kissing you,
Our lips melting quiet icicles into pools of poetry. They squeezed
'round
To watch those star-quiver splashes of stillness drip from our
tongues,
Delighted by glimpses of the growing-glitter moon in each one.