I
I blame the muse’s
Words and songs,
the brightness in eyes
and smiles and the way
he becomes lost
in thought, tripping
on words when under
the influence of
spirits with which
I ply him.
II
Coddling
So the Ex says “no,
you didn’t coddle him.”
But the food?
“It’s always nice to be fed
and everyone has to eat,
why eat alone?”
“When isn’t wine good?
And making him take
the rest home?
“Weren’t you going
to see your Dad a few days?
food and wine do go bad…”
And the gift?
“It's Christmas?”
I worry you know…
we’re just friends.
“Don’t.
You’ll never be
like you were with me.
Never.”
I’m afraid, my shell
was warm.
III
Turbulance on the plane and the Captain,
he says restrict your getting up but I know
I’ll have to go sometime in these four hours.
So I decide I’ll wait till on of the ladies
get up…only they’re asleep.
My row, we set still and silent. Lady in front
shifts in her seat. The boy behind, bam ba
bambam tap tap tap. I push back. punk.
In the window my reflection, hair cut too
short the night before but after hiding
behind miles of hair, plain and dull – so long –
I walk in and say Zulema! what, what
should we try today!
My hands as I write, nails also short,
clean trimmed and I wonder when and if
will I find a man that looks deep and wants
to hold on and I the same to him.
Maybe some day but right now I’m here
where I need to be, if a little sadly, and
someday will come when it does. only
now I do have to go and the ladies sleep on.
IV
muse
I saw snow
on the tips of mountains,
was warmed
by your laughter lingering
from two days past.
