Rendezvous
A rendezvous and a miscalculated cafe
Trudging laps along linoleum.
Two-door conversations with the windows cracked
Counteracts the warmth from the vents, from you.
Rolling from the North, double digits fall from the thermostat.
That little white-out wreckage.
Our tryst is ended by the collision of fronts,
I watch you spin and drift and drive.
The evening ends with a timid invite to your heaven
Where gilded angels greet me at my door before finding yours.
As if you couldn’t wait for my arrival —
Standing out in the blizzard that broke us;
The blizzard that resurrected us.
Heavy-handed are the syllables I keep behind my teeth,
Carefully crafted into a language of limbs.
Showing what has become too difficult to say.
Whistling windows like a lullaby sing us both to sleep.
Where in the middle of the still-dark morning I open my eyes
Finding your face before mine.
Eyes closed, soft smile, a miracle illuminated
By the pale blue moon reflected in the fallen snow.
Now a moment in a memory, something from a fevered dream.
I still open my eyes in that early morning blue
Welcoming your visage into the windows of my own.
I still open my eyes in that early morning blue,
To that early morning you.
Poetry by James Billington
James Billington is an aspiring writer, born and raised in Southern Nevada. He recently made the move to Nashville Tennessee where he has begun pursuing his writing full-time. He is currently in the process of building his poetry manuscript.
