Posted on October 1, 2025 by Jenn Zatopek

THE UNSAYABLE

I dreamt of you again last night,
how you came this close to my ear
and whispered the unsayable. 

The post card I’d send you
would be something you’d like,
a painting of a geisha with delicate eyes
and pale skin the color of milk.
You’d speak only love songs to her,
no bitterness in your mouth.
There’d be no late-night calls
or text messages as soft as silk,
no emails longing for healing
from troubled pasts.

Ours was a strange and stifled love,
a ship that carried us onto shores
of consciousness and surprise. 

I miss you, the way we’d talk for hours
like kids from the eighties (we are),
landlines busy as we’d stay up late,
our parents ignoring us, thrilled at our joy.

Do you remember
how we’d caught the attention
of a few elders last summer
who felt our happiness
spilling onto each other? 

Oh, my heart is a mountain lake
etched in your side!
How I wish I could take away
the fallen tree limbs over your eyes,
so love like water could rise up inside you,
your heart, so desperate for relief,
so worthy of forgiveness and of grace. 

Image / Sangre de Cristo Mountains in Santa Fe, New Mexico