Friday, April 5, 2013

evening star

Listen to this:                                                            

while reading this:

Even tonight, bedded in with Maggie and flush from an evening of love, her breath soft and gentle against his bare shoulder, Robinson knew sleep would evade him, knew that he would end up pacing the floor, marking time until Maggie woke up and emerged from the bedroom, smiling as she always did, running her hand through the tangle of her hair, trying to straighten it. There was something innocent in that tousled blonde mess that never failed to make him think of her naked with him and part of the power she had at that moment, in her smile, was that she didn’t even realize the hold she had on him. Sometimes warm tears rose in the corners of his eyes then and she always saw them. “Silly,” she’d say and thumb them out of his eye. “There’s no need for that.” Sometimes she kissed him then and sometimes she held him close. Earlier today she had tasted the wetness on her thumb with the tip of her tongue and, eyeing him slyly, led him back to bed.

Laying there afterwards, her hair sweetly tousled once more, she rolled over and propped her chin on his chest. He knew what was coming then. It was a question that arose every morning. “What did you see last night?” she asked. She always wanted to know what he had seen in the dark the night before. Some nights the images streamed through his mind so quickly he was only able to get the barest sense of what he was seeing. On other nights, an
image or two settled in gentle eddies that swirled around one another for hours. Last night had been an eddying night and as he described for her the sharp silver light of the evening star in a deep purple twilight, her eyes grew bright with interest and she began to probe him as to what he thought the purple twilight symbolized, what the evening star meant. “When we unlock what’s hidden in these images, Robbie,” she said, “we’ll know what keeps you awake at night.”

No comments:

Post a Comment