we’ve never seen the sunset,
just the reflection of it
on the mountains
our windows face
we could drive to the other side of the island,
i guess
we’ve talked about it
packing a picnic
blanket
all of it
but we’ve never done it
tonight, we sit on the patio
bathed in the noise of buzzing mosquitoes
loud and piercing when too close to the ear
the smell of citronella not helping,
it never does
the light fades on the mountain side
pink
gold
light and then dark green
when twilight envelopes us
we rise on stiff legs
hobble to the bedroom
silently undress
i don’t know anymore in which emotion we look at each others bodies
indifference, boredom,
maybe even hatred
sliding under stiff sheets offers
reprieve
and in the darkness our dreams take hold,
what wondrous things they are
these words by Francine Cunningham were inspired by the work of Chelsea Rushton
wordandcolour 