I’m crafting a world
and living in it.
You’re part of the narrative,
if only,
you were there.
poem-see June 12, 2016
See the twisting silence
weaving between them;
pursed lips, downcast eyes,
See their knot tighten
further together, closer apart.
poem-torn February 1, 2016
There at the bottom of the bag
is that precious photo
of the beloved man, now gone.
You have torn it into shreds,
torn my respect for you,
torn my love of you,
torn my heart in two.
It was not enough that he adored
and worshipped you?
You were blinder than him,
though he had the account with CNIB.
Your bitterness is poison
and I will not drink it.
poem-differences January 24, 2016
An invitation is made when the bosom
appears bulging into the neckline,
his gaze is grabbed and as she walks away
she pulls him to his feet to trail after her,
eager for the game.
.
Her instigation is subtle.
He appears at the stair,
tips his head toward the bedroom and waits.
If he’s ignored, he offers another tip.
And if she decides to follow him,
she will do so with a sense of irritation
that he doesn’t offer invitations
so much as commands,
and she’s pretty sure she didn’t actually
promise to obey.
poem-vacant January 19, 2016
How strange
that this space that was always filled by you
is vacant now.
Some time,
I don’t know when,
you stopped paying rent and disappeared.
Now the corner where you lived
has fallen into disrepair
and when I look for what used to be
I see only
moldy fragments in the space
that was yours.
poem-wear January 8, 2016
Remember how you’d mock him
tell us his weaknesses, laugh about him.
Remember how you voiced your petty irritations
in every letter or conversation?
He would never utter a word against you,
as you wore him down, year after year.
Water on stone. Cutting through bedrock.
And now she writes constant words of joy in him,
gushes over him like a waterfall,
and he pools around her with pleasure.
It’s a relief to see his happiness, someone appreciating him.
I watch and wonder whether you wish you’d chosen
better words, or whether you savour being alone?
.
.
.
I could have written this about so many people I know or know of. It’s such a common pattern. One sows seeds of one’s own destruction.
poem-vampire August 25, 2015
I hadn’t noticed before, but you’re a vampire.
You charm people, but when they get close to you
you suck the life out of them.
A succubus eating through relationships,
and now you’re clinging to that child
as a tool to make that old man stay
while you drain him, too.
I’m glad some of them got away.
poem-going July 19, 2015
He’s going.
I feel him stretching out
like old elastic on the tops of pantyhose.
How old are your pantyhose?
That’s not the point.
You need to refresh your pantyhose, seriously
that elastic is good for a decade at least.
Oh forget I said it. He’s going. I can feel him slipping away.
Like pantyhose falling off your hips if they’re so old the elastic is brittle?
Well, yes.
I have some elastic lace. We can sew it onto the pantyhose. They’ll be like new.
It’s not about the pantyhose.
No. It’s about the elastic.
No. It’s about the leaving.
You know, if you put a pair of panties over the pantyhose, it will keep them up.
Like a hug.
Exactly like a hug. Sometimes the pantyhose work down a bit and are uncomfortable, but they stay up.
How do you know these things?
Oh. We all have our emergency strategies.
Emergency.
Definitely.
Hmm. Right. Thanks.
poem- stretch July 14, 2015
and that is beginning
and that is ending
and that is continuity
and that is blessing
and that is leaving
and that is receiving
and that is you
and that is me
and that is we
poem- cat woman May 26, 2014
She slashed him.
.
Pain scratched and yowled around his brain,
longing for palliation.
He saw compassion and affection in your eyes
wrapped his hands across your neck and
in the explosion of agonized ecstasy,
you choked down his hurt.
.
She twitched her fingers.
.
With his backward gaze,
he saw anguish curling lithely behind your eyes.
You saw his pitying relief, even as his pain
purred so loudly in your head
it blocked the words
he should have said.
.
.
.
This one is for Amber
Shawn L. Bird 