Alternate Heats (for Christina)

And so I’m left alone

wondering: what if

I’d tried to love you

rather than the warmth

of your best friend?

Would we have fireworked

just as vaingloriously,

pan-flash spark spewing

color just as quickly

as we could shed our clothes?

Or would we have bubbled

like sugar microwaved and molten,

forced into a form

we were never meant to be

shaped of or by –

the crust of our former love

crumbling everywhere in its hardness?

Or would we have brewed

like tea leaves steeped in the boil,

finally unfurling our dried tongues

preserved months ago

for someone else’s tastes,

releasing the flowers

we’d kept clenching

for no other reason

than constant reservation?

Perhaps the kettle is still,

waiting to whistle.