Halcyon

plausible deniability

we were careful like criminals,
nothing illegal, just unsanctioned.
we chose places that didn't remember us,
hallways, parked time, borrowed rooms.
we learned how to arrive without arriving at all,
how to stand close and leave no proof.
the door closed softly,
as if it already knew what we were.


there were rules,
though no one said them aloud.
phones face-down.
names swallowed before they formed.
don't linger.
don't ask what this is.
we learned how to leave first,
even while staying.
we exited separately,
like it mattered who saw.
we said it without saying it.


affection handled with gloves.
we destroyed the proof.
no photographs.
no plans spoken past tomorrow.
our future stayed hypothetical.
nothing to confess.
nothing left to do.
time watched us.
the clock cooperated,
briefly, then reminded us who was in charge.
we loved on borrowed minutes,
kept one eye on the exit,
as if love itself might testify.


we rehearsed innocence.
oh—what have we done?
but hasty hesitation
and accidental guilt
are never permitted in the
profession we practice.
plausible deniability
kept us breathing.
our truth was contraband,
something we learned not to reveal.
how did we end up in a profession
where we're caught on alibi,
living on borrowed time?


no one ever caught us.
no names spoken.
no scenes made.
we still disappeared.
not all at once,
just enough to arrive again,
almost intact,
bedecked and bewitched.
it is our profession, after all.


we left no evidence, except ourselves.
nothing happened,
so why did everything?
we were careful enough
to lose it anyway.
we did nothing wrong,
so why did it cost us everything?
we arrived safely by never arriving at all.
no one remembers,
which is how we know it was real.
we survived,
which is to say,
we didn't.

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