poems for him who was a playboy*

written 8-10 years ago

Unintimate

I fill your life with symbols,
That dance like dust motes
Carried by a breath of wind.
Before your lips that smile,
And eyes that do not see:

My cassette tape thrown carelessly
beside your stereo,
Fish from my province in your freezer,
Large bottle of vitamin pills
on your table,
Files in your hard disk drive and
The pink alarm clock I lent you
when you first started work.

Even the whiff of my scent on your
favorite pillow.

The familiarity I seek,
Permanent place I long for,
Escapes you, indifferent lover –
The way the early morning sun
Plays on your face
As you rub your eyes
And fails to charm you.

I know that it’s hopeless.
I have no place.



Freed

Wolf-woman
Howlssss at the moon –
A keen wailing
That topples
The neighbor’s
TV antenna from the roof,

Disturbs the
Deep sleep of
Corpses in a nearby
Cemetery.

And sends some
stars spinning away to other
galaxies
in fright.

She mourns.

In the daytime,
A pretty young woman
In her early 20s
(And grinning)
rushes into the office and
plonks into her seat.

On nights when the
Wolf-woman doesn’t howl
She whimpers endlessly to herself
Rocking on her heels.

(with apologies to Clarissa Pinkola Estes)

*playboy, a thoroughly retro-sounding term. :D hihihihi!

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