samedi, janvier 13, 2024
vendredi, août 25, 2006
Sleeping patterns
For seven years
I slept with someone so angry
she would fall asleep in the middle of yelling at me.
There was so much angry whispering at bed time.
If I tried to leave the room
she would fall down in front of the door crying,
begging me not to leave.
I felt helpless
uncertain I could make it on my own.
So I was thankful
when she fell asleep mid argument.
I drifted off only to be awakened an hour later
when she roused and remembered her thoughts.
Eventually I gathered my strength and got her out.
For two years I slept alone on my side of the bed.
Waking up every morning to find the covers on her side of the bed perfectly smooth and unwrinkled.
The memory of her bitterness embedded in my subconcious, keeping me away from the other side of the bed.
I slept with someone so angry
she would fall asleep in the middle of yelling at me.
There was so much angry whispering at bed time.
If I tried to leave the room
she would fall down in front of the door crying,
begging me not to leave.
I felt helpless
uncertain I could make it on my own.
So I was thankful
when she fell asleep mid argument.
I drifted off only to be awakened an hour later
when she roused and remembered her thoughts.
Eventually I gathered my strength and got her out.
For two years I slept alone on my side of the bed.
Waking up every morning to find the covers on her side of the bed perfectly smooth and unwrinkled.
The memory of her bitterness embedded in my subconcious, keeping me away from the other side of the bed.
mercredi, août 16, 2006
Secret wife
I'm over here in my bedroom.
The chamber I enter alone.
The room I keep for myself.
It needs work.
Life is good but messy.
Being a mistress is not for the faint of heart.
Never mind the possible condemnation of others.
What about when my beloved is ill, or lonely or just restless at night.
What about the idea that our time together is predetermined.
We can reach out at night in our beds
only to find each other alone.
I'm a secret wife to an invisible husband.
The chamber I enter alone.
The room I keep for myself.
It needs work.
Life is good but messy.
Being a mistress is not for the faint of heart.
Never mind the possible condemnation of others.
What about when my beloved is ill, or lonely or just restless at night.
What about the idea that our time together is predetermined.
We can reach out at night in our beds
only to find each other alone.
I'm a secret wife to an invisible husband.
jeudi, août 10, 2006
mardi, juillet 25, 2006
mardi, juin 27, 2006
Never ordinary
There's something strange about lying back in the dentist's chair.
A chair you've returned to after a decades long absence.
Lying back and hearing the mellifluous tones
of a former lover
broadcasting for funds on NPR.
Lying back and looking at the airplane mobile
the posters and listening to the dentist
work
when suddenly a voice creates a sound track.
"This is your public radio. We need your support."
A voice from the past.
The last time
in this same chair
and the dentist was there
so was the lover.
A chair you've returned to after a decades long absence.
Lying back and hearing the mellifluous tones
of a former lover
broadcasting for funds on NPR.
Lying back and looking at the airplane mobile
the posters and listening to the dentist
work
when suddenly a voice creates a sound track.
"This is your public radio. We need your support."
A voice from the past.
The last time
in this same chair
and the dentist was there
so was the lover.