One of the shelves is off; behind
the cookbooks a switch, a puzzle
box, a false back, the entrance
to the Holy of Holies, or perhaps
nothing more than a ring-pop.
Gulls circle, feint. Beneath our
feet the balcony, a delicious prize.
What treats they envision we
will never know, are too distracted
to imagine. Our lips together, my
hands shaky beneath your shirt,
against the curve of your back,
fever-hot through May breeze.
There is just your skin, your
breath, sweet alto of your voice.
Nascent dawn. Sparrows sing
sunrise to our exhausted, sweat-
slick bodies. This desire,
morning, next week, so long
as we both shall live, eternity.
Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. His recent/upcoming appearances include Survision, Loud Zoo, and Ghostlight, among others.
Artwork: Jim Zola has worked in a warehouse, as a security guard, in a bookstore, as a teacher for Deaf children, a toy designer for Fisher Price, and currently as a children’s librarian. Published in many journals through the years, his publications include a chapbook, The One Hundred Bones of Weather (Blue Pitcher Press), and a full-length poetry collection, What Glorious Possibilities (Aldrich Press). He lives in Greensboro, NC.