AFTERNOON BARBECUE
Michael Keshigian
The women share a secret,
chattering
until we enter their circle,
giggling quietly
when they think we can't see.
We ask them for a hint
but they only lower their eyes
and smile delicately
from the corners of their mouths.
It only increases our desire
to know.
Perhaps it was something
they did long ago,
consequences notwithstanding,
the memory possesses
a lingering sweetness.
This might explain
their camaraderie,
the way they rest their chins
on the curl of their fists,
stare at each other
with intense intrigue.
Tell us one story
or give us a clue.
Whisper a sentence
or even a word
that might carry
in the warm summer breeze
when you close your eyes
to remember
