Poem. When you were David.

in a hundred flowering years from now

will it really matter?

whatever it is that has made its home inside your head

its dark nest

this is a small truth

that tomorrow might not even draw a full breath

might not breathe at all

that you might be the next one to walk through that door

escape the cocoon that you have called

my life

and then

will it really matter?

how about this, that today you silenced yourself, stood untroubled

in front of the window

that you watched the sky set herself on fire

all of her steady blueness, her azure face

gloriously unhidden

wearing her going-out dress and her salmon-pink stilettoes

just to say goodnight

a slow, brazen exit

shameless around her edges

you know

you know, don’t you?

that you were David, unable to tear your eyes away


that if this were sin, you were all in

that you wanted it


that you ate it up, licked your fingers

wanted more

that you said, for what i have received

thank you


— when you were David

© Liezel Graham 2021.

Image by Bernard, Unsplash.