Monday, July 24, 2017

if i knew ...



if i knew ...
if i knew
that inside your suitcase
you were carrying
a parcel of the past
so carefully wrapped
in golden tissue
then double wrapped
inside the folds
of your favourite sweatshirt
that you wore
to bed sometimes
wore and let slip
off your shoulders
when you pressed your body
close to him
and did the thing you did and did
and did
the thing you said was
not for me

if i knew
then i guess
i might have remained
in the bubble
of a life apart from you
but i couldn't
couldn't watch you
from away
couldn't watch you from the balcony
of love's theatre
watch you passively
moving across some crackling movie screen
as if you were a Hollywood starlet
out of the reach of hope
out of the reach of my arms
i couldn't
couldn't ignore
the irresistible hunger
couldn't stop
my failing legs
from stumbling
and sending me crashing
into the puzzled packings
of your life

the rooms we shared
are empty now
even though i waited
for a year or more
waited for your letters to arrive
waited for a tap on the door
waited and waited
until finally became final
and i hear you're
back in your life before me
i hear you're living
on the outskirts
of true love
happily settling for
what you called
the tangible reality
of Monday to Friday
that skips the madness
of our rampant weekend rapture
and though all is always
still i sometimes wonder
whether you have kept
my heart
perhaps wrapped in a stocking
or old sock
in that suitcase you carry
stuffed as it is
with a treasure
of broken dreams



 







 

Sunday, July 23, 2017

the old dance ...



the old dance ...
this is the dance
the old dance
the shake and roll
over invisible feet
parsing the night's
unending sentence
into fragments
of flickering images
as you move in and out
of light and darkness
your empty breasts surfacing one moment here
before your watermelon ass flashes
just a moment later over there

oh yes, baby,
you were more than erotic
your body seethed with fire
and, yes, it was easy to see you wanted something more
hoping, i guess, to even the score

sure i loved you
loved the way you crept over my body
serpentine and sweet
your tongue finding
its way into my senses
rushing me to journey's end
despite my best resistance
and sure i loved
the way you crushed my balls
with the cruelest grip
and whined to me
"Feed me, you bastard, I want it all ..."

oh yes, baby
you were more than my lover
more like the push of time toward life's final door
hoping, i guess, to even the score



 







 

Saturday, July 22, 2017

waking ...



waking ...
you wake beside me
your eyes searching
through the dimmest
corners of the room
like two restless stars
wanting only somewhere
to settle
in the dark skyways
of my life
and when you open
your soft eyelids
you open
open
open
you open
the world
to some miracle
i remember from
before
from before the darkness came
from before you
and before the light
you brought
before
the light
you brought
the light
the light i had lost
the light
of your eyes
seeing
seeing for me
seeing
seeing one last time
into tomorrow




 







 

Friday, July 21, 2017

this is the photograph



this is the photograph
this is the
photograph
of you
dressed in
black and white
it has faded
along the hemline
of your summer dress
and just over
your left eyebrow
there is a small
almost indistinct
crease
which sadly
gives you
an angry
expression
behind you
is a blur
of sepia
and the muted yellows
of age
seeming to drip
out of focus
blending
only at last
in a dark
smudge
by your
feet

this is the
photograph
of you
i keep
with me
always
and sometimes
when the subway
slows
a sudden
fear
overcomes me
and begins
to blister into
reality
with the uncertain
certainty
that you are
gone

this is the
photograph
of you
that too often
i pull
from my
shirt pocket
to stare past
my thumb
into your
eyes
half-closed
but looking
back
at me
with a kind of
half-open
promise
that i was sure
you
would
keep



 







 








 
 


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