The Devil's in the Details

The marsh creaks back and forth
outside the window. My wife
waits upstairs in our bed. Books

build slowly along the living room
walls, hallways, up the stairs
until my wife is reading wildly,

hair flying. The moon strips needs,
turns this way and that
in the water, one lifetime after another,

silk of the slow currents invisible
by daylight. We cannot
resist any longer. My wife and I

room after room, tumbling books
from the shelves, turning
the pages, breathing faster and faster.

Copyright © 2007 James Doyle All rights reserved
from Porcupine Literary Arts Magazine
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission