Beresford Ave in May by Marla Mulloy

February Prompt: love stories, love poems

​I heard you
as you turned from the subway station to the small park
and onto our street,
            singing.
Or maybe my heart heard you,
the connection we had to each other pinged just a little,
so that the part of me tuned in to you caught my attention
for a small second
as you entered our street,
turned right,
and began your last block home,
for I don’t think you would dare to sing so loudly
in the middle of the afternoon
that I could hear you at the end of the block,

            although sometimes you couldn’t help it,
            steeped in your own thoughts
            barely aware of your surroundings,
            the notes slipping out of your throat like a blessing or warm chocolate.

When we were young and carefree about life, we were
attentive with our love to one another,
sometimes reckless, sometimes curious and uncertain,
the notes that slipped out as we explored each other's bodies were
also like warm chocolate.
We lay on the couch in the sunroom
            of the house we had borrowed
            from friends for the weekend
            on the shores of Lake Ontario.
My head on your bare chest after love,
your heart beat so loudly I wondered if it would burst.
Or on the floor, gasping slightly, I’m sure I could hear the beat of your heart,
even as I lay beside you, cool floor under my shoulders,
your hand touching mine, warm and still electric between us.
 
And now, years later, children scattered around us,
life holding us far enough away from each other to be
forgetful of the spark,
I catch you, as I wait in the chair on the porch,
            watching me from the tree at the edge of the yard,
            your walk home complete.
Just a glimpse and my heart flutters, butterflies unbidden, unplanned,
electric and warm again at the sight of you.

---

​Marla Mulloy is a writer with an evolving collection of essays, poems and stories, having been recently published in  The Timberline Review,  Brevity Blog and Ruminate Magazine.  She has been a teacher and now works with refugees in Calgary.  Much of her writing reflects the experience of refugees, documenting through story the paths that brought them here and how they create home in new places. She continues to share her writing through her blog: www.tossingwords.wordpress.com.