<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We get by giving
\nand in getting, give again<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but HOW<\/p>\n\n\n\n
give his hand
\nmy clit<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and still<\/p>\n\n\n\n
keep it
\nas my own;<\/p>\n\n\n\n
how love
\nwhen loving means I lose<\/p>\n\n\n\n
certainty<\/p>\n\n\n\n
that sleepy peace my mother kept
\nagainst each Spring flirt;<\/p>\n\n\n\n
how kiss
\nif kissing is the pain<\/p>\n\n\n\n
parting lips<\/p>\n\n\n\n
impart
\nupon the heart?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We get by giving
\nand in getting give again<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but HOW<\/p>\n\n\n\n
give all
\nfor not?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’ve heard you tell you’re prior kissing tales
\nOf boy-men, who given a chance start strong
\nThen finish first, or worse, go on and on
\nWithout warming any water in the pail.
\nWhy then when in the nick of time you find
\nLaying beside you in the morning light
\nA friend whose hand and heart and head are kind
\nWould you turn your back back to search the night?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To find the man you think you really want
\nPay attention to the words, not the font<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For Sonja<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When we were children
\nplaying on the see-saw
\nwe saw seeing
\nas being:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
when we saw a cookie–we ate it;
\nwhen we saw a cloud–we made it into a tiger, or a dolphin, or a rabbit;
\nand when we saw a flower–we plucked it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There never seemed to be stomachaches
\nor worries about our waistlines.
\nWe didn\u2019t fear delusions.
\nAnd we never felt pangs of guilt
\nover Mrs. Demarcos\u2019 missing Dahlias.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But now that we wear these glasses-
\nto read the fine print of our lives,
\nnow that we slip them on
\nto turn a hem or code a text\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I can\u2019t help wondering if we\u2019ve lost something
\nwhen we gained this gift of glass;<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I take them off to look back,
\nto see again
\nthe raucous laughter
\nof Linda Demarco, and John Bonasera, and myself
\nplaying in our neighborhood swamp\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I take them off
\nto see again
\nthe sheer splashy fun
\nof ruining
\nanother pair of shoes,
\nand socks, and pants
\n–despite my mother\u2019s warnings
\n–despite my solemn promise
\nto never fall in again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I take them off
\nto look back<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and then put them on
\nto type a line, read it over
\nand type another:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhen we were adults
\nplaying with seeing
\nwe saw
\nbeing
\nis seeing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sarah\u2014live wire,
\nsnapping just to say:
\n“I am
\nempty\u2014nothing\u2014small;”
\nthat is all
\nanybody is;
\nso what
\nwill you do to prepare
\na way from despair?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014without hope
\nyour dreams disappear,
\nthen what is left
\nis what is here
\n\u2014only that much is ever clear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am heavy with the weight of my own breadth
\ntired with the want of wish
\nfear the power of hope more than the power of not<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is not the touch of your tender nipple to my back
\nI fear
\nor the brushing of the hairs of your sex against my skin
\nor the scent of your sweat and sex in my room<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is the next day, while stripping the bed
\npulling the sheets up to my nose to sniff
\nbefore dropping them in the washer\u2014that is what I fear:
\nthat soap and water can wash away
\nyesterday,
\ncan leave nothing of the slap of hot skin on skin<\/p>\n\n\n\n
–can replace the ache of wanting
\nwith the fresh of laundry<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and their dogs,
\nno bigger than their hopes,
\nare small dogs,
\nquiet dogs,
\nwaiting dogs;
\ndogs not moving \u2018til some task is done
\nand then not moving far at all,
\nbut home to eat and sleep
\nfor tomorrow\u2019s much the same.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Banana<\/strong>
\n(For Alpha Blondie)<\/em>
\nShe still haunts me,
\nthat buxom Bugandan lady
\nwho promised to shower me
\nwith her waters.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":3709,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-969","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/969","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=969"}],"version-history":[{"count":18,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/969\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4165,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/969\/revisions\/4165"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3709"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=969"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=969"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=969"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}