A Wish For the Man Who Swore He Couldn’t Love Me:
Are we muses or mere fuses?
I feel like you took a scoop out of my ribs.
I feel like you’ve been sucking me like ice.
I feel like you won’t admit you stole.
Fascinator or fear, I’m still under your skin,
I know the lie under your tongue.
I spit and carry on like a haunting.
I don’t wish anything for you except to crack
Open and puddle out like warm honey.
I don’t wish you love, I wish you forgiveness.
The type you’ve been looking for in every
dark feature of every contour
of every good woman in Kentucky.
I wish for all your hollow caves to converge.
That the soft wait ends your stalactite pride,
bumps as it must against your
stubborn stalagmite stoicism.
That they meet like cold patient fingers and
lock into gripped hands.
By this, I mean I wish you safe rest
inside love longer than a naps worth.
That late in the day type of sleep
where you wake up okay and defenseless,
with afternoon gooey sun eyes
and tell someone who looks like me
how you finally met me
in a memory
for the first time
you learned how to pronounce
my real name.
6 thoughts on "A Wish For the Man Who Swore He Couldn’t Love Me:"
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you are on fire
It’s a grease fire.
Fantastic! That ending is killer.
Thanks for the kind words!
You had me at “Are we muses or mere fuses?” and then when we get to “By this, I mean I wish you safe rest” the rest of this piece unfolds itself to a point of pure power
Thank you Shaun! You’re KILLING IT