21 Jun White Nights
I once loved a boy.
He used to call me Fish.
We would talk of books and hawks and midnight swims.
One day he told me,
Fish, if you ever cross the sea I will show you starlit curtains in the sky.
We will lie between the sheets and see everything in the night that is not dark.
But the fish was a salmon and it turned against the stream while everything flowed.
I stumbled and we found ourselves back in our exile that had given us our names.
Back under the night sky that was indeed black, for it was far away from our shores.
I wanted to let go of his hand, but he, he would not let me.
One night we saw a fox,
in the middle of the street with our shadows touching its pelt.
It gazed at us with different eyes and he told me that foxes were cold, were wily.
To me it was just a fox, far away from home.
A fox in love? Yes, and why ever not.
And my fingers wound their way out of his, itching to hold only water.