Bedrock

The sonnet you left on my Facebook wall
left my normally garrulous roommate speechless.
“He’s on the spectrum”, she sputtered finally.
A warning that I should view your syllables
like shifty-eyed suspects.  

But you and I traded haiku 
like kisses, which we also traded
awkwardly on a dorm room bed frame,
carving words into the hollows of our throats
like initials in a willow tree with our tongues.
Afterwards, we drank microwaved tea.

Of course it ended.  
It’s absurd to think a poem is a bedrock; 
everything on poetic ground teeters
and crashes. Still, some days, I wish
I’d stopped balancing practically
on the diving board and let myself fall.

Photo Credit Sarah Whiley. From MLMM Photo Challenge

***

Written for dVerse, WOTDC (garrulous), WOTDC (crash), and MLMM Photo Challenge and retroactively for dVerse (kiss)