Two pauses upon

reaching the door,

silent intakes of breadth

while avoiding

each other’s eyes.

The cricket’s legs scrape

and the lightening bug glows

luminous beyond the

dreadful porch light.

In the blinding gaze

the unsure lovers

are suspended in time.

She grasps the keys in her hand,

poised to unlock the door,

glancing at him longingly,

willing him to read her mind.

He stands there

looking down at her,

sweaty hands in his jean pockets;

her head, almost unnoticeably,

shakes as she looks down and

begins to twist the key,

when his hand slowly reaches

for the knob and

keeps her from stepping

through the threshold.