ELEGY Poem: mint leaves, by Thérèse Naccarato

it’s when the ash burns your fingers but you lift them to take another drag.
chewing on mint leaves.
we’re dancing to the sound of the air conditioner and all i can feel is the heat. skin to skin.
your lips curving up, a mountain i want to climb, the only one i ever would.
it’s sitting by the fire, which is a screen, which isn’t real, which is to us.
playing truth or dare as an excuse to be honest. it’s the only time i’ve been brave enough to peel
the layers back, citrus staining my fingers, lady macbeth washing her hands but being unable to
get it out.
for the first time i wonder if maybe she didn’t really want to.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest