We fly hand in hand D.C. to Boston
Above chartreuse shoots, animal riots,
Milter crammed creeks, drunk on the season
and transgression. Before the hallway quiets
Behind the bellman, we lock and topple
To the sheets, dinner deferred. I wear no
Ring to scold us while we tumble.
Green leaves shade lunch, your skin's pregnant glow,
My averted eyes and nod to a rescission
Silence made you volunteer: we don't meet
Today I found your note, the one
About...what's done for love...a quondam beat...
Buried in bumf unearthed for cremation,
A mystery still, something I can name
But never trust and keep it from the flame
from We Look Like This (Carcanet, 2012), © Dan Burt, used by permission of the author and the publisher