The wound was deep
But I held my hand
Over my heart
And when you asked
I pressed the other against your cheek
Engaged your eyes with a smile
Lifted two fingers away from my chest
And showed you the blood there.
Only a few drops, see?
You relaxed then so I held your gaze
With a turn of my cheek
Affectionately toward yours
And when our foreheads met
I pushed yours gently to the left
So you would watch the pretty nurse
Approaching, she was appealing in her
White starched dress and cap, silk
Stockings with a seam
Running all the way down the back of her
Taut calves to the rim of her
White soled comfort shoes
Dipped in scarlet
She never slipped as she
Walked right through me
Crimson prints marked her path
To the next room
To the next door.
As I tried to hold your gaze
Chin in hand
And smile affixed
I felt you stiffen
Your eyelids drooped
You looked as if you swallowed something
Very sharp
Or very poison.
The door shut automatically behind her.
You flinched at the finality
Of the sound
But never looked down
You didn’t have to.
Instead, you looked to the left
From where she had come
And to the right again.
This time when you caught my gaze
I knew I could release you
You used to say my eyes looked empty this way
But I knew
You’d have to hate me
To release me.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Overheard @ the Art Museum
She, the voluptuous one
With the violin lips
Satin mocha arms.
And he, the ardent one
Six-stringed and
Witty to boot.
And her, the silent one
The one paraded, coveted
By the rich, the old, the infirm
The newlywed’s gift
The dream of man
The promise of immortality
She sang through her eyes
And we listened
Intently
For a hint at that secret
Her clarinet shoulders
Cooed and babbled
And we took it as god’s grace.
She’s awake again.
It’s your turn.
No, it’s yours.
No, I took her last night.
You’re mistaken. That was me.
No, it wasn’t.
Please, I’m so tired.
But I worked all day.
And I didn’t?
You slaved.
Yes, I did.
I bore her.
Yes, you did.
Let’s go together.
Are you sure? No. I’ll go.
No, let it be me.
If you’re certain.
I am.
I want to.
For you.
Get some sleep.
I’ve got this.
You rest.
I’m going.
ARPAGGIO!
My darling, I am so sorry.
We need you.
I know.
With the violin lips
Satin mocha arms.
And he, the ardent one
Six-stringed and
Witty to boot.
And her, the silent one
The one paraded, coveted
By the rich, the old, the infirm
The newlywed’s gift
The dream of man
The promise of immortality
She sang through her eyes
And we listened
Intently
For a hint at that secret
Her clarinet shoulders
Cooed and babbled
And we took it as god’s grace.
She’s awake again.
It’s your turn.
No, it’s yours.
No, I took her last night.
You’re mistaken. That was me.
No, it wasn’t.
Please, I’m so tired.
But I worked all day.
And I didn’t?
You slaved.
Yes, I did.
I bore her.
Yes, you did.
Let’s go together.
Are you sure? No. I’ll go.
No, let it be me.
If you’re certain.
I am.
I want to.
For you.
Get some sleep.
I’ve got this.
You rest.
I’m going.
ARPAGGIO!
My darling, I am so sorry.
We need you.
I know.
Never Once
Today
I woke, I worked, I walked
and never once wondered
how it would be if
If only you were here.
Tonight
I write and wrestle with the thought
that I never once wondered.
July 21, 2008
I woke, I worked, I walked
and never once wondered
how it would be if
If only you were here.
Tonight
I write and wrestle with the thought
that I never once wondered.
July 21, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)