to a keeper of words

	for Em


enigma
my heart goes out to you

we find ourselves wearing masks
speaking words
hiding truths

too good at this
to let that pass -
the parry is an instinct,
the blade turns aside.

we do not meet
on darkened streets
our breath steaming the air
talking under sodium lights
talking in the cold

i have never seen your eyes
heard your voice
just flashes of your soul
at the joints in plate armour
let out when you breathed
	
eventually i will know everything -
that is what i tell myself -
about you, me, us
venturing out into the street
eventually

					
November 21, 1995
© Lela Kaunitz