Saturday, September 30, 2017

Recurrrent dream


Last night, you appeared again
like you do
every so often
your eyes, lifted slightly,
begging for return.

I resisted
knowing
           -- knowing --
(knowing)
but somehow
succumbed,
fell back into rhythm,
into promise,
into line.

Into long-languished
desperation.

Last night, you appeared again,
guilted me,
wilted me,
gutted me,
opened me up, swallowed me whole. I thought i could
stay away
be better
be done.


Last night,

our waking encounters -- so constant these days --
                           (polite enough, yes,
the familiar hug shared between old friends)

took hold,
shook me like a dog shakes a ragged toy
    clutched
               in his jaws.

Broke my neck,
broke my spirit,
left me limp,
helpless,
heaving.

Loosed my desire,

shaking it free,
like so many skittering marbles,
rolling
everywhere.


Last night you appeared again,
and this morning I awoke,
confused,
breathless,
tangled in sheets,
in the gray light between waking and sleep,

            only the dizzy buzzing of my phone,
propelling me forward
to coffee,
to home,
to brushing my teeth,

feet planted
almost firmly upon
                              cool tile floor.

This morning, like so many others before it,
I drove the dawn-draped roads,
grateful for rising light

(damn the dormant longing
now stirred in my bones).

As others suited up,
            pulled neoprene sleeves tightly over them,
against the
almost-October
chill,

I,
in only a serviceable swimsuit,
(one that can no longer hide
how the years have paunched my belly
and loosened my skin)
waded in,
and let the shock of cold,
(the silken motion)
envelop me
and

replace
you.

2 comments:

  1. What a beautiful poem. I am drawn to your repetition and especially what you include in parenthesis. Thanks for sharing.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you, Trina. Appreciate it. . . and appreciate you reading.

    ReplyDelete