He is chainsawing
And has decided
To love me
Again, I think.
Last night he
Ran his hands
Through my hair,
Down the nape,
Of my neck,
Kissed me between
The shoulder blades,
And so on.
But I lay
On my side
In another world.
It was like
Having the flu,
Or wearing 3-D
Glasses. I was
Tired, not knowing
What he meant
By kissing me.
Maybe tonight he’ll
Still be happy
Enough, almost talking
To me, eating
Sour apple tart,
Watching a French
Movie with his
Head in my
Lap. We stumble
On and on.
[forthcoming in Same Old Story (CavanKerry Press, March 2014)]
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