The Unquarried Blue of Those Depths Is All But Blinding by Ashley Anna McHugh

Ashley Anna McHugh

The Unquarried Blue of Those Depths Is All But Blinding by Ashley Anna McHugh

T.

Monday rains and Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.

The Unquarried Blue of Those Depths Is All But Blinding

Ashley Anna McHugh

for John Fogleman

There are some things we just don’t talk about—

Not even in the morning, when we’re waking,

When your calloused fingers tentatively walk

The slope of my waist:

How love’s a rust-worn boat,

Abandoned at the dock—and who could doubt

Waves lick their teeth, eyeing its hull? We’re taking

Our wreckage as a promise, so we don’t talk.

We wet the tired oars, tide drawing us out.

We understand there’s nothing to be said.

Both of us know the dangers of this sea,

Warned by the tide-worn driftwood of our pasts—.

But we’ve already strayed from the harbor. We thread

A slow wake though the water—then silently,

We start to row, and will for as long as this lasts.

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