Love Remains
by Claudia Collazo Ramos
Shadow figures move slow;
with the dim lights,
children's hands make bunnies in the air, where
dog-eared silhouette marks
the time when thumbs
mimic pups that grow into
hounds who snap
at rabbits trying to escape from them.
Tongue gently licking the bitten hand as an apology
creates a puddle in the wetness that was already there.
Child’s play gets extended.
Kidding around
comes the passage of time, bringing crows who fly
over old promises.
Pinky fingers interlock again
after years of not seeing each other.
Sweaty hands make a home
in a stranger's waist.
Chicken skin when
the hairs in the back of
his neck stand still.
Birds sing
waiting for the next move.
He takes the liberty of pressing himself behind
the other man’s back;
both sunkissed in the middle
of April, at the mercy of a gun
pointed by the first one.
“Shhh” marks the spot.