Remind me again how our love was ill-advised by Torie Amarie Dale

Remind me again how our love was ill-advised

I swing from the branches
of that forbidden tree. You rest
your hands on your knees

and bow your head low.
In that valley of your own creation
you ask God, and, of course,

your Blessed Mother,
that you and I might someday
be lovers, or friends

or just two people
with a history, who catch up
with each other once again.

You clasp your hands
around that silver rosary ring,
tell me you’re stunningly unwise.

I pick up my python bag,
hang it from my shoulder,
strap on my stilettos, shimmy

into my tight-skinned jeans,
and step over branches
torn in my descent.