They see the devil in their desires
The serpent lurks, swallowing at
Their humanity, strangling their
Natural impulses and sometimes
Their basic needs. It's a version of
The devil made me do it that is so
Deadly serious that it makes good
Men murderous in defense of their
Piety, thinking that that sin is less
An offense to their God than the
One their hearts and bodies desire
Our passion is shared and
Divided up by memory into
Little bits of what once was.
Remembered, stored away
For safekeeping, it lives as
It once did but hazy as faded
Pictures in a sundrenched
Album. Not as safely kept as
Our treasured love once was.
We would not have let the
Edges curl or the color drain.
Pleasures once tangible now
Are distant, and dreamlike,
Played out in the flashes of
Uncertain memory, slipping
Out of focus, but sweet and
Clear.
There is no rush to get up.
Shapes emerge as I gather
The light coming in from my
Window. Dawn is a revelation
It is that, revelatory, by nature.
The gathering daylight reveals
What every new dawn reveals-
The surprise and delight of the
Beauty that is in the world and
Ready to greet me as I gather
The light as it emerges. Dawn
Stumbling over the land, footfalls
Rumbling with the discontent of
Evolution, large animals, their blood
Chilled for life on a tropical planet
Tumbling through history as
Eons roar through their veins,
Leaving their mark in museums
And in books, in archaeological
Digs, or our imaginations, out of
Our memories. They were never our
Neighbors, pets or prey nor we
Theirs, their romp through our
Backyards and Jurassic Parks is
The stuff of fiction and movies.
Their tread startling the mire and
Mud, they walk the planet only in
The imagings of small boys or
Grown fantaists who see them a
Loud and menacing presence, as
If reclaiming their past can join it
To ours
Tribe. Tripe. Trite.
Trial. Trail. Train.
Trans. Trick. Truck.
Tough. Troll. Cried.
Crime. Grime. Grits.
Grout. Group. Grope.
Grift. Staff. Stuff. Stiff.
Stick. Stack. Stuck.
Still. Spill. Spoil. Spend.
Trope quote hotel
Round pound route
Works jerks murky
Fiver pleas lette..
Uhohh, fiver pleas
It'ssa gaame ooovf trans
Forma tions (longA) aannd
Realy there isn'ta reasn toooo
Cheat. Fiver pleas. Start. Finis
Frond found. Tidal
Trial. Wring wrung
Fiver river. Brews
Trees. Clues blues
Pound mound. Pleas
Lease. Downy found
The air smells of the overwrought
Pasta she'd made last.night, heavy
Like the fevered pieces of seasoned
Gnocchi, overcooked to a hard and
Unyielding patch. The scent is a mix
Of sweet and exotic, almost nice. It Is an aroma at once pleasant and
Dark. It's clingy like the night that
Awoke her, insistant, incessant, full
Of its own life, yet lurking in corners
My heart is constant
Even as the weather
Blows hot and cold, as
Moody as any feckless
Lover, changeable as
A young man's fancy
In the spring, faithless
As it rummages in my
Wardrobe, tugging at
Wintry coverings one
Day, pulling out lighter
Garb the next, windy
Or ill-tempered, warm
And endearing on an
Afternoon with hope
And promises. I hold
Steadfast, unmoving
In the shifting storms,
My heart full of love
And memories
Memories of you are
Kicking around in
My thoughts, revisiting
The places we loved,
Where we were in love,
Where you and I, in love,
Walked, where we sat, we
Were everything to each
Other, where we were in
Love, lovers. Sweetheart,
Whereever I am, I relive
The us of us, the you and
Me of yesterday and today
We are still you-and-me,
In love and loving. I am
Always
Thinking of you
There are so many words but
I have only used loss; I've only
Said "I'm mourning" or "I mourn"
I have said "I miss you" and I've
Mentioned that as I missed you,
You were also missing. I knew
You were lost and losing little
Bits of yourself over time which
I noticed you had lost. A whole
Concept, a man-made construct
Time was lost to you. This not
Being able to tell time caused
A consternation. You did ask
After the time a lot. "What time
Is it?" A question that came at
Minutes apart. You wanted to
Know, to understand but you no
Longer had the sense of it. Time
Was already really irrelevant and
Lost. I knew I was grieving you
[There I have said it.] I still had
Little bits of you but I mourned,
Bereft of the partner who would
Know how to fix it. Whatever it
Might be. The companion who
Did things, set the clocks back
Or forward, the lover who would
Recognize my feelings, the friend
Who would console when I was
Sad. I grieved alone. Sad alone. I rejoiced alone. You were here and we did laugh and chat together. Your chitchat could be so very Endearing. Now you are truly lost
To me but not lost in confusion Lost. Gone. I can begin mourning
Properly, my grief made real by
Your timely departure. You were
Able to pick your moment, time
Your passing perfectly. I have a
New concept of time now too, a
Time when a vibrant loving man
Left me with memories, a time
When that man, my man began
His long fail into confusion, and
That time when I journeyed with
Him in sickness 'til death did us
Part and I was left bereft but with
Memories of his strength, of him.
Memories of his generosity and
His love and his care. I grieve his
Loss. I mourn your passing but
I rejoice in all our time together.
It was our time. We used it well.
Bereavement, grief, has its time
Now. Memories of all our time
Fill my time now as I grieve you
And miss us. As I mourn our time
Tamara, really