History

Fotografia de Vicky Hladynets

It’s late. History promises you a kiss

When she comes to bed. So you say good night.

You’re tired and can’t keep your eyes open,

So you called it surprisingly early.

She, like every night this summer, stays up

To watch her shows. Later, she woke you,

Accidentally, with a light you thought was

Dawn but was just the white haze of her cell.

You stayed half awake in the lit darkness

Thinking she owed you something, a mere kiss,

Waiting, one eye half open, like the flesh

In a shell sensing a swimmer pass by.

The light turned off like it never happened.

And nothing came to you because you were

Owed absolutely nothing. Not even

The growing indifference in her voice. 

Rowan Ricardo Phillips