Last Light

by Claire Kent

There are words I could use to explain it to him. About hope. About remnants of lost beauty. About echoes of meaning in a bleak reality. But I don’t even try to explain. Maybe I am crazy. Reading poems at the end of the world. I don’t say anything at all.

Sometimes we gotta cry ’bout the smaller things because the big things are just too big.”

Being the one in control should make me feel powerful, but I’m oddly vulnerable instead. Like I’m not sure how to move my body.

If a man has a woman willin’ to put her mouth on him and he whines about her techniques, then he don’t deserve her at all.”

Travis shakes his head at the dog but reaches over to give him a quick pet. “Damn it, dog. You and her both.” “Him and me what?” I asked, intrigued by the vague statement. He shakes his head at me the way he did at the dog. “You and him both. Gonna ruin me.” I swipe away one more stray tear. “We don’t mean to ruin you.” “I know you don’t. Just makes it worse.” He murmurs the words, almost as if he’s talking to himself. He’s looking out onto the sloping dirt drive. I’m not sure exactly what he means, but it doesn’t seem like a bad thing. His tone and expression are fond. I figure I’ll take it.

But I’m tryin’ to tell you that you don’t have to fuck me to keep me. You have me, even if you never want me to touch you again.”

I know I’m not a man you ever woulda wanted otherwise. I get it. I promise I do. I told myself from the beginnin’ I could never… never ask you for more, ’cause I never wanted you to feel obliged to give me anythin’ you didn’t want to. I made myself hold to that from the first day we got together, and I’m gonna keep holdin’ to it now, even though I’m in a panic ’bout losin’ you. You got choices, Layne. You’re not stuck with some old hillbilly who never went to college and who can barely understand all your poems and who never shoulda been anyone to you ’cept the guy who fixed your car. You’re not stuck with him just ’cause he’s the only one you got.”

Travis is grumbling wordlessly as I lean over him. My lips hover over his. “Are you really whining about this?” He huffs. “If you kiss me, darlin’, I’ll never whine again in my life.” That just about does me in.

“We all live our lives in just a snapshot of time. Maybe it was never the sun setting on us. Maybe it was always the sunrise.”