What We Are;
My feet are black with inherent soot,
Fingers splayed to let sunlight in,
Dark brown eyes flecked with worry.
My suit's rumpled exterior means nothing, dear,
I'm merely recovering from a mysterious loss.
The sand's spun to glass as bonfires twinkle like
Daytime starlight. I stare for hours, unsure of my intentions.
What I mean to do with it all.
You wrap your lengthy cords about me and breathe—
Sucking the world all in,
Smiling like something was actually new.
Nothing was. I'm merely stressed, unaware that my
Sterling silver watch's snapped, giggling between ticks
At me like a fool. I'm not crazy, my doll,
I'm just tired. My paws are worked to the ivory beneath,
My eyelids cracked and withered.
My red hair nothing but amber now.
You appear frustrated as I run a finger across your stiff
Bottom lip, grimacing with meanderings, spells.
You won't speak this time, though you've interrupted me before.
I want to love you, but where's the time?
The cab comes at four.
You kiss me bitterly and collect your reveries,
Your scarlet lingerie,
The cologne you gave me for Easter.
I hear a noise outside the door but say nothing,
Not wanting to spark a tiff.
Your maw tastes of salt these days—
Not at all like that pepper you paraded past July.
I wonder where it's gone,
Where you've been.
You seem more palpable than usual.
I clasp my hands and wait.
Harvard rises from the dust and I'm beckoned—
Hailed to sing praises of people I've never met
Or even gave a chicken bone for.
You traipse off to the library and doze,
Lost to me, the world below.
You pick through your dinner like a child,
Bickering with me about political points I can never guess.
I realize sporadically that you've learned more than I
In less than a year—and you're older.
Hilarious. I walk my chopsticks through land mines
And think about your unaided skin.
You know, if you asked, I could take off a day or three
And sweep your ankles off the ground floor,
Maybe marry you. Wouldn't you like that?
I'd do it, just murmur it over a glass of brandy.
You yawn and gather your coat.
I say nothing.
You take your leave and I'm forlorn again,
Wondering why I put up with it,
Why I don't just give up and move to Akron.
How could I be so naive?
We're merely playing, enjoying a game of wits.
How wonderful.
I shake off the shame with a bottle of champagne.
).
