Edges

We spent the afternoon
walking the edges of a bluff
over a silent river.
On a quilt nearby
we traced the edges of
our young bodies, letting the
lines that defined us
blur and mingle.

Later, I perched you naked at the bluff’s edge and
we laughed, wondering what families in canoes
below could see. Then I saw fear
in your eyes. You were suddenly alone.

As children, we’d skipped easily along
edges but now others depended on us. Others
wanted to see us again.

As you leaned away from the edge,
my hand found you. I was the one you'd hoped for,
but my hands were steel and resolute in their purpose.

You tried to hold me but I drew quickly away.
Our eyes met. How tightly we'd
held together an hour before.
You fell into a silent solitude
below the edge of the bluff where we'd
stepped carefully moments before.