a damned demanding mistress
thriving on my distress
she knows how to draw me out
on cool lonely nights like these
she asks me what i think about
as i stare at the distant lights
stoking the ember in my hand
seducing
me with whispered rhyme
she
slowly creeps into my mind
telling me she’ll understand
and so we get to talking this way
of how your ribs feel in my embrace
of the bite marks you left on my chest
or how caressing my shoulders you reach for my neck
how having made love we go to sleep
on the large bed holding each other tight
only
to wake up again
and reach for each other in the middle of the night
i guess i could well talk instead
of how the room brightens up when you walk in the door
or how it’s a pleasure to see you do the simplest chores
like ironing your sari the night before
hands flying as you expertly handle both
the iron and the cigarette
blowing
smoke out the side of your mouth
tucking your hair behind the ear once more
but i can’t just get away with bright blue days
and sunny mornings on the hillside spent picking
flowers
i must come to the pungent smell of crushed grass
that
stained our elbows and our knees
the peach blossoms in your hair
the
rumpled pillow of my jeans
the mad laughter
and the frantic search for a pin after
for where the sleeve of your dress tore
it
takes a lot to engage her and i can’t
get away listing things about you i adore
i must talk of how with your
eyes shut you gasp
every time i enter you
for
the rest is too passé
no, the other won’t do
for she’s far too exacting and
easily bored
and though i may be honest to you
to my poetry i’m still a whore
No comments:
Post a Comment