Tinder

She hustles up to meet you at the front door,

and your chest brightens as she smiles.

It’s a smile that’s run your heart’s furnace for forty years.

A smile for dousing hate and melting cold things.

You remember the first time she turned that look on you,

at the ‘75 turkey trot in Jasper.

You wouldn’t have seen her if she hadn’t slipped.

Because sometimes railings sit too close to the rides,

and sometimes they’re loose.

Sometimes people lean on what they shouldn’t,

But sometimes a looker-on is poised to catch them.

In your arms she hit you with that look,

gratitude tracing contours of a seamless face,

and you almost dropped her.

You said, “Al,” as you helped her to her feet.

She said, “Amber,” as she surveyed the near miss.

Smoke sighed in to fuel an endless flame,

a tinder for only her.

You remember her family moving in next door,

your tinder kindling as she was happy to be anywhere.

You remember the day of the wedding,

your tinder billowing as her smile made the dress look dirty.

You remember her holding newborn Emmett,

the tinder positively swelling as she taught him to clone her lover’s beam.

She told you how she wouldn’t leave Venus Court,

to care for her aunt in Maine.

She said because here was home,

and you didn’t tell her grit made her shine.

All those years your tinder burned and you didn’t say a thing.

Because giving someone love means losing control of it.

If she knew her smile tickled your soul,

she’d know its value and could choose to keep it from you.

Because making someone feel divine might make them act the part.

Because love is power and it’s cruel to make someone hold it for you.

So when for the past forty years you’ve just mirrored her smile,

a poor impersonation of her radiance,

she’s never left.

So when she steps up to your door and says, “Mind watching Em for a bit? Jason’s

packing up the furniture and says he can’t do it without me,”

and you see a moving van pull up to her house next door,

wheeled by a man whose smile’s been infected by the sun,

it’s then you realize you’ve had it all wrong,

because no one knows they’re the key to your heart if they don’t know you have the lock.

And she says, “What a husband, right? He just loves me so much,”

then her smile shows their love’s hot as a star.

She says, “Forty years, Al. I couldn’t have asked for a better neighbor.”

It’s then you realize the thing about being too close to any flame is it burns.

And a tinder stoked and hidden, that’s agony.

You hold a giggling babe as two bright lights ready to set sail, happy to be anywhere.

Bit by bit Em’s glee pulls up the corners of your mouth,

because once you caught a girl and now you’re holding hers.

Because your tinder is now cooling dark coals.

You made it so someone could shine.

You made possible this trio’s joy,

and that’s something worth smiling about.