Hilton Garden Inn

I had to refuse your hotel room, middle of the infinite
August evening. I was new in a city of ever-rising water

and you came to me, promising a raft. I couldn’t forget
finding the stars with you beyond all this light pollution

as we floated on our backs in your leased pool. When
you told me you were lost, too, I didn’t think you meant

you’d say no to your forever lover in the fog on a beach
in New Hampshire. I thought we’d wait much longer.

(originally published in Monterey Poetry Review, Summer 2020)

Leave a Reply