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  • Writer's pictureSylvia Schwartz

Suppose


Do you suppose there’s a crack in the universe?

One we both could slip through?

One where we could find each other again,

but somehow anew.

Or suppose we’d met when I was older, kinder, lovelier;

aged by wisdom not beauty’s conceit.

Would love have stayed and comforted us like a blanket,

instead of being tossed off in a moment’s heat?

Or suppose you had been younger,

before cynicism shrunk your soul.

Would love have made it through

all those bitter nights of cold?

But before those nights were over,

there was such brilliant light.

Wasn’t there?

Beckoning, blinding, blistering.

Even shame shielded its eyes from the sight.

In the beginning, it seemed so simple.

You called me your girl.

I called you my man.

Bodies, souls, time—all effortlessly intertwined.

I believed destiny brought us together.

You believed fate pulled us apart.

But, darling, now that you’ve slipped into the universe,

won’t you wait for me?

To try again?

Until then, I guess,

all I can do

is suppose.


Originally published by Page & Spine



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