They did not make this world for us

They did not make this world for us.
They made it for the lovers;
the early hour of dawn suggests a tryst.
The joy a blossom takes in its initial yawn,
or a bare branch in its undress before a bath,
is not for us. We leave no room for innocence or subtlety.

(We know this . . . it is why we so often flee
to hide and doze ( Read more... )

what birdlike figure

What birdlike figure, they will say.  What poise and grace.
I will not tilt my coffee in their presence, spill it on their tiles.
I will not smile.  After all, my teeth are falling out.
(What good to poison such a fount of compliment with one true smile?)

So delicate in bone structure, they will say.  All right.
I give you that one ( Read more... )

to what end?

To what end
do I make coffee?  With what caution, now,
do I pour the fat into its can
after a meal is made?
What impetus attempts to nurse
open my eyes, to get me out of bed?
Not even the tulips, round and white,
in their vase upon the sill, dawn smoothing
over them as over a forehead,
can answer this, this morning.

What measure of my prowess I ( Read more... )

nod to eve

I wooed the snake unguardedly,
thinking: all this must be good.
What trick can such a pleasant God
play upon man?

It is the thought that brings
my downfalls, seriatim,
through each of my later lives.
Each boot upon my head
twitches to force
a nod to Eve.

when sunlight is too bright

When sunlight is too bright- the way they shaped this room
it blazes on the wall, on every wall.
No tapestry can dull it.  They are burning.
It shines like a scream, cutting the morning.

Beneath it, they can hear the pound and pause of key,
but do not inquire.  Am I not violent enough?
They sit with shades drawn, while I, yes,
I ( Read more... )

sisters

You were in trouble, you say.  I smile sweetly-
I can be benign.  (After all, I chose not to go with you.)
You helped me out last night, locking your fingers
with mine, being overt, as a girl is wont to do
when in that situation.  But, of course,
my loyalties lie elsewhere.
(Not where you think, as our talk turns to ovaries.
Ovaries!  How little I ( Read more... )

coffee

My kisses did not wake you,
so here I sit, downstairs, alone, although you said
you wanted to wake early.
I made the coffee.  It is cooling
on its plate.  After all, I will not drink it.
What signal have I
that you still love me?  You cast me off, aloof,
during the day, but curl into me at night.
In your dreams, anyway, I am still whole.

If I were ( Read more... )

waking up after a night of dumpster diving

The sink is filled with dishes.  The black bag is there,
Krispy Kreme donuts, mashed together, your biggest triumph.
I pretended to be sleeping
as you scaled the wall.
"Why are all the boxes smashed?" you wondered.
Possibly, they knew you were coming.

Turkey bacon, dated March 6.
"You can have it," I say.  ( Read more... )

marriage

curiosity, says husband. she shakes her head.
their marriage, first a luscious apple, then a rotten one-
the child that tethered them, surprised, together-
the death that split them, nuclear, apart.

curiosity, he says now. she understands.
when newness fades, only a sooty silhouette remains.
theirs is the silence after sound.
theirs is the silence ( Read more... )

camping

oddly, my happiness, such as it is,
does not return to see our boots, three pairs, home,
lined up upon the mat, dusted with pollen.

i cook chicken, bake bread-
an appreciation of the stove.
he continues sleeping in his clothes.
the talk is of ticks and of rain.