Crab Orchard Review Vol. 12, No. 2, our

Kelly Houle
A Honeymoon in the Hotel Rufolo, Ravello
He didn’t turn on the light.
I fell to the bed
To watch his silhouette unbuttoning,
Open the window to the misted hill,
Monastery, lemon grove.
I needed the window open for air,
Glass of water, slice of lemon,
To be dressed in something the weight of moonlight.
He said, Take that off, it makes you look innocent.
I didn’t know.
The bells that woke us up at dawn
Had called the monks to mass.
Do they smile to themselves whenever they hear
The unmistakable moans of lovers?
Do they try to drown the sounds as they pass,
Tapping their staffs on the cobblestone
Below the hotel windows?
I held the sill with both of my hands.
He wanted me to watch their slow procession.
His hands on my waist, I swayed above him,
A woman wanting to be two things.
If this is our first ritual, what will be our last?
Airport terminal ticket counter,
We’ve already checked our bags.
The housekeeper is busy untangling
A nightgown from the ruins of our bed.
74 ◆ Crab Orchard Review