i. A poem with a blunt ending
My heart speaks in tongues,
None of which are really useful
Because your heart speaks plain ole
Midwesterner flat-planed English.
I went to the gate today to cry out,
To bend back the toitoi with my voice,
To see your burnished ginger crown
As you were head down, face to task.
Lotus, your lap, lotus, your bowl,
Lotus embroidered on the silk
And its color was blood and blood and blood–
But I didn’t see any of it.
The gate to my own history was bricked up
Like it didn’t belong to me anymore,
Like things are so easily rewritten
Just because I hazarded to wish I’d never met your dumb ass.
…..which Cherie jogged back to the forefront of my attentions by asking after it last week.