The Brick is Reluctant

By morning
the decision made itself:
Neat hospital corners.
This sheet
won’t forsake the bed.

But what-if?

What if
it fell
upon us,
that unreasoning brick
that breaks you
without chipping,
and you howl
with gratitude?

After we’d succumbed
to the fact
that there was an us
but before
we told the world,
there was a hike.

I took the downhills
slowly,
relishing the worry.
Come on, you said,
but your irritation
had soft corners.

Hesitation,
I wanted
to tell you then,
is a sign.

It means you really wanted it.