December #18

my last poem for you, my love, my last
sad mourning hymn. for you have gone, from heart,
from hands, from bed. It was my fault, your start
away, the move towards our end, our past.
The present just was not enough; I needed
room to breathe. You gave me that and more
besides; this thing, both good and bad, is sore
and sad in my heart still, my eyes yet wet.
but you and i, we've long finished, and top
to that, it needed to be done. we loved
but lost, were meant to stand but instead moved.
our hearts could not withstand the sudden drop.
i'll miss you, if i may, but let you walk
by me, and take your path - don't go astray.

October #4

let's talk about tired,
about waiting up
on foolish excuses
because of silly fears.

let's talk about tired,
about wasting the night away
on one boy, one hope,
because of long loves.

let's talk about tired,
about burning time
plunking at the keyboard,
because of school or research.

let's talk about tired,
the kind of tired that stays with you
even after you've slept every night,
ten hours,
twelve hours,
fourteen hours,
and you still
can't
get
out

of your bed.

July #12

We


We are going
to have a house,
a nice house,
somewhere
far away from where I am right now,
somewhere that I may have never been.
We are going to have a house.
We are going to have a garden,
with flowers and pumpkins,
because I like pumpkins,
even though
they might not grow well there.
We are going to have our garden and
I am going to have my pumpkins.
We are going to have children,
adorable children,
who take after relatives we don't know.
We may not even know they take after people,
because we'll be far away
from the rest of our families.
But it is a beautiful place, I hear.
We are going to have a yard
with room for a sheep
and two dogs
and a cat, at least one cat.
Perhaps
if the children convince us
we may have a hermit crab as well.
But no bugs, snakes, or slimy things.
We are going to go visit our families for Christmas
and Thanksgiving
and New Year's
and maybe sometimes in the summer
just for fun.
We are going to be happy,
with our house and garden and children and pets,
and high priced airfare.
But we would be happy
in an apartment
with high rent,
no kids,
one flower growing in one pot,
and a goldfish,
if we had to.
Because we know what love is.

June #5

I don't know if you know this
but I'm not all the girl I used to be.
I'm half that girl,
and the other half
is this scared, madly in love,
afraid to lose anything,
afraid of everything,
easily hurt, easily bruised, easily broken and betrayed half woman.
She feels abandoned easily.
She is ruled entirely by her emotions.
The other me,
the first me,
the one you feel in love with,
can think and breathe and make living sense,
but she is overruled by this new presence
who sometimes
insists that horrible things will happen,
expects things -
and then wonders if she's expecting too much.
This other woman
doesn't know her limits
but knows that she has fallen so deep in love
that to extricate herself
is suicide.
You need to treat her gently.
I am not her,
and most of the time,
that girl you feel in love with
is dominant.
But on days like today,
when that new woman has put herself
in the spotlight attempting
to make you happy,
you must be gentle,
appreciative, loving,
and hold her hand and look
into her eyes
and tell her what she wants to hear.
Because otherwise
she'll leave,
and call later,
and let you hurt her
again
and again
and again.
Then she'll wonder
how many chances you're allowed to have,
and cry more than she should ever do.

Just love her the way you love me,
but gently.

May #10

I could stay up and not sleep at all,
finish my novel,
sip hot tea,
pet the dog,
be poetic and ridiculous.
But I could be pragmatic,
and return to bed,
and be slightly less cranky
for two hours of sleep.

The first appeals more to me,
but then I remember
that boy I've left in bed
and I know where my heart lies.
He will not wake up without me.
It is simple;
I return,
novel unfinished,
essay unwritten,
water hot on the stove.

Love comes first.

May #4

Note: I wrote a May 3. I published a May 3. Perhaps Blogger ate it. Onward.




What Cosmo Taught Me

Cosmo said,
Living with a man
means getting comfortable with him.
Beware!
Once he sees you clipping your toenails,
you'll become usual to him.
Keep up an air
of feminine mystique -
or lose him!
And I, the little tadpole,
eager to learn and to please,
swallowed the lesson whole
and when my life came to
the turn I am,
when it came to sleeping nights together
and spending days together,
it sped out of my mouth again
at some moment.
So I measured my life
against those
glittering, laminated scales -
the Scales of Cosmopolitans -
and found myself
perhaps a little wanting
in decorum.
Yet I knew
I was still a wonder to his eyes,
could still impress him
with a simple dress-up
and could turn him on
with a look,
whether I was sleeping in
his ratty tee or no.

April #18

I have love now.

A true love,

a good love,

a love that can scare me.

I have time now,

lots of time,

even as I fill it up

with activities and jobs and works.

I will take this now,

and live in it,

and give it my all.

Perhaps I should stop this poem, then?

April #17

I talk about real life too much sometimes.

What's going to happen - after.

How I can't wait to leave

where I am,

in search for something more real,

more tangible,

more realistic.

I came across a quote today,

trite as it was,

and it sort of, 

well, 

revolutionized my thoughts a little.

Life is now. 

My life is

every moment.

It's not about after college,

or after work,

or when this project is done.

My time will not be saved

for after I finish whatever is ahead of me.

I have to cherish, and live,

and love the now.

So I vow to do it, 

silly and pointless

and sudden and revolutionary

as it may seem.

It's time for now.

It's time for real life.

My worries will waste each day.

Let my loves live them instead.