
Tag: Holidays

don’t suffer from
depression,
poetry says,
festoon that shit
the twenty-seventh day of december
in a year
we did not share together
.
afterglow of christmas beaming
from the tree
through my scotch-taped-back-together soul
.
tis the season to ache infinitely
.
driving through light strands
of red and yellow traffic
to the art museum upon the hill
.
with the little park beside it
where the son we will never have
took his first wobbly
bear dripping honey grinning steps
.
into your arms as i watched filming
jumping and cooing the way a mother does
over the littlest triumphs
.
but we never were, darling
our lips never touched
.
our breathy kissed love affair
ether white wedding by the sea
raven haired children
are nothing
but a shared
far away dream
.
an assorted pile of glistening
christmas presents
never to be wrapped
accumulating beneath
my tinsel heart
amaranthine
i knew it was him
before my hand picked up the phone
something in the ring too sentimental
the thanksgiving phone call
undertaken as he stares
at my picture next to his mother’s
on the mantle
both smelling of bourbon
affection and loathing require
equivalent sums of passion
and he hates me
oh god and king henry
how the man hates me
reminding me well and often
with his voice folded within
the what-would-have-been
amaranthine
in the way he can’t help but write angry poems
still hurting from the loss of the baby
and me
with a lump in my throat
not daring to say
i love you
love affair
we were driving
near the water
i was green
with a lack of land
begging him to veer away from lighthouses
he never let me drive
but it was okay
because it was one of the ways
he was older than me
and i counted on him for that
leaning in he notices
my pearly white painted fingertips
resting against the tan leather of the car
and says
your nails are beautiful
i say the color is called
love affair
and he says
of course it is, baby girl,
of course it is…