I called for you, spoke your name
thought you might want to play
a summer fling, a cheeky thing
that had crossed me, inappropriately
some years ago when I came
with another, and in passing
you’d thrown a polite
“G’day. Are you enjoying your stay?”
your voice pushing me down
to a place of imagination, or
perhaps premonition –
the witchy kind, inherent
a certain knowing, as clear as a bell
we would find each other,
some other time, in some other life
when I had course-corrected
my way back to this place
your kisses on my face, my skin
I take you all in, and cry out to a god
I don’t believe in.