When Paul said he was hungry
he meant for Lori’s hands
kneading into his flesh
so the bedsheets
would bandage loneliness
while the soft night soothed
all the consonants and vowels
escaping his exaltation.
He wished it to end with an amen
that spread across the sheets
like the June breeze
through the open windows
and yet be a hullo
that inspired a deeper reacquaintance
and lead to honest conversation.
It would be a vaccine
that protected them from the emptiness
of the black space between moon and stars.
copyright © 2023 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 