By Ana Kusenberger

Calm After The Storm by Leah Mayes

 

i remember

              when we slow danced

                            outside of storefronts in july

                            to

               no music.

 

we had to hide

               blocking the bright

                              neon lights on Bourbon Street

                             which

              glow in

 

 the day.

 

your hands tapping

                on my waist made

                                a beat unparalleled. the six-

                                teenth

                notes you

 

made.

 

your nervous vibe

                created a 

                                   jovial rhythm unheard of 

                                   prior

                to now.

 

the shouts and shrieks

                of the night were

                                    the horns, that blare garishly, but

                                    sound 

                like an

 

angel’s chorus.

 

your head on my

               shoulder kept me safe.

                                    grounded. like a man slapping the

                                    bass.

                violent, but

 

perfectly safe.

 

and when we were

                  finally un-

                                     afraid, we kissed. and while time seemed 

                                     to

                  stop, the

 

music kept playing.

 

and i heard your

                  heart beating

                  fluttering,

                  quickly,

                  softly,

                  Melodically.

 

and what of your 

                  kiss? of our kiss?

                                        dear, your kiss was the vocalist.

                                        drip-

                  ping in

 

glamour and wrapped in silk.

 

so now,

i keep waiting for you

outside of that same storefront.

and whenever you walk by,

i hope i can hear our song

play 

once

more.