The End of the Sunset

November 24, 2019

 

Photo by Simon Abrams on Unsplash 

 

The End of the Sunset

I fell in love with the purple sky
permanently set down behind your house
and your red porch light fire-glow
a morning and an evening met.

You're a face peering from behind
bed sheet curtains, flower-patterned
your body an outline in thin layer.

You can't see the sky for the roof
for the dusk fading houses into ash.
And we are sharing that blank-faced look
of desire, the one that always holds me
in this space on the sidewalk.

I cannot stand here, forever in wonder
gasping on your sip of fresh cold
and linger only in the invitation.
The enamoured thrill of sunsets
the purple sky a suspenseful surprise
must be made known.

Your living room is dim and
scraps of days are piled in the corners.
The furnace burns like waking arms
from sleep, and the sky can't
make it through the windows.

I knew walking in that anticipation ends
that we would be obscured by shadow
pressed together between narrow walls.
But there is now the sweetness of this quiet finish
the sunless color when all skies converge
into the first act of motion.

 

 

~ Tor Lowell

 

 

_________________________________

 

 

Tor Lowell is a queer, non-binary writer from the Pacific Northwest. Their previous work has appeared in Peculiar: A Queer Literary Journal, Jonathan: A Queer Fiction Journal, and QDA: A Queer Disability Anthology. Did they mention they were queer?

 

Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter