Lying Close

Lying with her,
Lying close,
Lying while her past escapes in silver whispers.

Lying with her,
Lying close,
Lying while the unspoken i
Is a rough coal in my own throat.

Her soft voice
Is the cry of the single quail at dusk --
Easy and artless, unaware
It's alone as night encroaches.

My silence
Fails to announce the purposeful, leaning
Turn of the falcon's arc.

Lying with her,
Lying close,
Lying by omission.



© Eric Robert Nolan 2013