Not through a kiss but through his solitary gaze

slanting when I lifted my hair wet-heavy with downpour

heaped it on top of my head elbows pointing neck tilted the meat

restaurant window bleared

with water smeared beaded with dust and haze we talked

Malamud and Rashi and forgiveness

the Jewish way a letting go of blame because we are not the final judge

how it's freeing “liberating” he said his gaze lay

agitated on the bend between my shoulder and chin what is

a single look? what is seeing? how it digs hard horse hooves striking

dry ground a smack against your chest stoned

from soup hot in my throat and his eyes

regarding the skin just above my clavicle rain

plunged hard behind his round glasses and black skullcap

pounding the umbrellas and gutters and later

that week my friend told me he'd said to her “I could

tie you to the bed” when I heard that it was as if

I had already heard it soup-heat blushed my tongue his look

searing my collarbone I tell you his eyes flared

as if his troubled intellectual mouth tied me