|
|
A Brief
Attachment I regard your affection, find your teeth have left me a bruise necklace. The lipstick marks leech a
trail, ear to ear, facsimile your smile. Your 40
ounces of malt beverage, your shrink hate, your eyes dialing 911. The hearts you draw with ballpoint on my cigarette packs when
I’ve left the room, penned in your girl’s cursive, look demented, misshapen approximations of what I refuse to hand over. It’s a nice touch,
though:
a little love to accompany the cancer. My
thought follows you to where you spend your days lying in bed, smoking and reading the Beats. The accumulation of clothes and ashes circles
you, rises like a moat after rainfall.
You are a study in detachment – the trigger eye is your eye, still as a finger poised to press
should one
refuse to cooperate, and I wonder why you hate
men so much when it seems you think like one. Think of what I could be doing outside if I could unlock the door of myself: think bikini, think soda fountain, think tradition, a day lacking entirely your brand of ambivalence. If you were a number, I’d subtract you; if you were a
sentence, I’d
rewrite you. Are you the one who left these wilted
flowers, are you the one whose PIN spells out H-O-L-E? Why are you wearing my clothes? If you are weather, then I’m a town, closing down
at word
of your coming: you’re a glacier on fast forward, you’re direct as a detour, when I say good-bye you move in next door. You say you want to
have my baby, you want to buy me a car, and
you’re too young to enter a bar. I should tether you to a tree in the dark park, allow the moon to
stroke your white neck. I should give you a diamond
collar, walk
you around the block, and show you off. **
Archived
at http://lit.konundrum.com/poetry/marvinc_poems.htm |