Whitney Street

Modeled from San Antonio by Naomi Shihab Nye

Sunday I poured over your intentions,
the maddening assembly of gloom
a voice inside my head.
I was panicking when you arrived.
I lay in your arms
and felt my heart slow gently.
You knew which pieces of me
needed to turn over.
It was then I felt
the knots slide out of my mind.
I remembered the elderly couple
in the bar where I once worked,
sipping stout from a shared draft.
It was then I knew,
as a woman looking forward,
you would not leave me,
or find anyone you loved more.