First time i saw her in over a dozen years
was to watch her cry.
The way her shape laid next to me on the bed,
we listened to that Hallelujah. The way it literally
moved her—as her breaths breathed with the chords
& her trembling kept time with lyrical verse.
her braids, undone, and strewn across the pillow—
strands that i carefully picked up the following morn.
a pale hoodie, zipped tight around her shoulders,
jeans fitted, dark denim.
She told me not to watch her as she listened
but how could i not.
s./j. goldner
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/christmas-eve-5/
