You took what you wanted.
Let it sit until it stank – careful,
your wabi-sabi ways are showing.
Selfish, undivided, your desire was singular.
Me wanting not wanting, you wanting and wanting.
I wouldn't wait, no virgin Mary I, thumb-twiddling, waiting.
You can have your greasy take-out,
while elsewhere I take out the trash,
hear the sea roar - her anger thrashing, crashing,
mine, a message bottled, washes up on farther shore.
Someone else can read the missive, furious and fast.
I lay a hook off the seawall and wait for the tug,
no fish, even Jesus may have failed here, instead I pull in
eel after eel, electric and fascinating; Careful they shock.
The seizures the seizures, Love, I am on the fritz
yet prescient to the last, I see it at the bottom of my cup
as the leaves clump and fall.
As they spell out our history.
Love, I see only trouble.
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Comments: 16
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so think: no fish, but only eels - snakes, etc. NOt good... hope that helps...
This poem feels more of a mild love rant, perhaps, before the narrator has even yet to admit the end to herself. It is the early stages of the breakup where there is still yearning underneath it all. Other rants you have written were more full of grief and even anger. This poem by comparison is more mild as the broken hearted one still continues to call her departed, "Love."
The narrator is still divining, trying to figure it all out. Why did it all end this way and what will I do? Putting on a brave front is all she can do for now... waiting for him to return.
The ending line I quote here, "Love, I see only trouble." Perhaps, she foresees or senses the greater upheaval of grief and anger that lies ahead when she finally admits all is definitely at an end. Your style of poetry is always so evocative and real.
Fitful is a good word for this.... not one that occurred to me, oddly, but one that is def. applicable... thank you for that...
be well - and no doubt, we shall speak soon...
xanthe...