No Wife Tonight

WOW JOHN!!
Happy to give the first comment.
Just lovely..................
Greetings from Kolkata, India

John, I had to read this through twice, to get every perfect rhythm, every cadence, every perfect image. This has formed my image for the evening as I go upstairs to watch Prince of Tides, again.

A poem that could be unhappy, yet it is not. It is musing and also descriptive, informing of your life.

I hope she returns to you soon.

You miss her terribly.

So much is stated between these thin white lines.

So much is stated within these broad black lines.

Superb, Juan.

I hope his is fictional or at least not permanent old friend

I enjoyed this as you inventory some of the things missing besides your wife. There's no sounds or noise, no laughter, no embraces, no kisses, as half of waits for the other half. I really, really like this.

Very very nice indeed....

And in another note: Winehouse is terrific; messed up, but terrific.

A thought that there may be a serious rift has me worried, but your tone does not seem to spell that.

Though now I am worried.

It's hard to bear the brunt of being alone, waiting, watching, hoping...

Only you could express your solitude in such beautiful playful words.......I was just waiting to hear Inma come in the door any minute....

Good to read you once again....I was missing you.

Very nice ponderings of a lonely man.

The absence creates such a permeating sensory deprivation in this
....mainly of silence as the sounds of the wife's daily presence
are reviewed. The emotional tone feels purposefully neutralized
as much possible so that the reader is left questioning if this
absence is temporary or anticipated to extend for a while. And it
feels new, the author just beginning to perhaps miss the resonance
of his partners presence, perhaps while even denying that, or
questioning how much that matters. There is a wall up, that is
transparent, but protective.

But the silence is most impacted by the almost frozen stance of the
husband....as if he can barely move in the inactivated surround
without the mirroring from his partner to respond to , to complete her
motions, to share the household activity, her celebrative giftings,
her laughter and touch and dialogue....and the comforting
presence.....the completed and joined marital sensorium.

The valuations of the substantive and spiritual completion are
often taken for granted until there is separation....and then every
little nuance and nudge of imagined and echoed normal presence
can stab in remembrance, especially when the future is uncertain.

The poem conveys so many emotional facets and concludes
with the distancing titling of "foreign agent" which locks me
up after so many leading attempts at affectionate ascription.
I squirm a bit , and almost feel invasive even leaving a comment.....
it is as if this private state of pondering should not be disturbed
and left in the discomforted limbo that is intimated, to allow time
for the emotional mapping to coordinate response and direction.

I feel distanced sadness, anger, resentment, & uncertainty, but
the residual afterglow of attentive love, although missing or departed,
fills the hallways and spaces of the poem with a personal need to be
embraced. But its stance cannot yet touch or be touched or even
re-touched into anticipated return to joy at this juncture. No reason or
blame is given and the poem does not ask that any emotion be justified,
simply heard and the space that it creates honored for the opening
to its truthful reclamations.

The "foreign agent" can be read so many ways......as spy from another
perspective, as separate activating and reactive force, and as, in your
own marriage, the bi-cultural differentiations that speak in different tongues sometimes to different purpose.

The poem is almost too terribly effective......and I leave in state of unrest
.....waiting for the doorknob to turn.....for the eyes to meet.....for the silence
to speak.

I don't want to "assume" this poem's place in your personal life without
that notation. I only want to congratulate you on so effectively holding
this tensely vibrating space so authentically and yielding to the words
that make me and I am certain many more, hold their breath in anticipation
of when the door will open.....and what the resolution of the unfinished
words and disassociated worlds will be.

Hearthugs always to you and your courageously artful words.

Oh man, I loved this to no end. I can so appreciate your words my dear friend. Every line had its own story and I enjoyed each of them like the perfectly ripe plum my wife fed me this morning from her own hand. Sweet!!

Thank you so much for this precious and most personal work of art.

John - This is an absolutely beautiful glimpse into your heart. Thank you :)

John...

A consciousness clearly filled with the shared and cherished experiences of a love-filled life. Here the verses resonate, depicting the keen moments when in our solitude we are left subdued to consider all the missing details that silently speak of our "completeness"... things we remember, things we crave, things we can't do without as we move on with the changes of our lives... but forever thankful for the gracious nature of the things we keep and carry with us.

This speaks in a universal sense to all of us ( and in particular to you as you move your home to L.A.) as you bathe us in a state of mind, that precious mood, of missing the one we love. This grows rich as you activated my imagination and emotions.

Oh, to be missed as she is missed. Simply delightful recall of the missing half of you. And you as the steadily waiting half.

Hello John...so good to see something from your pen again
Perhaps the word Tonight in your title says it all. She's away for one night and already through the magic of relationships, the little everyday things become emptiness's that become all pervasively distracting.

I'm sure that the garlic, pepper and onion aromas will waft again from the kitchen to the delight of the poet, whoever he may be.

I look at this poem as great tribute to the many small but soul deep aromas and memories that women leave in every corner of a home.

John, this is one of your very best - it speaks direct from the heart ... dare I say it, from an anguished and pining heart?

In the darkness and silence is when memories walk and talk.

The oblique, hollow tone, the deadpan lull in the pace is striking, as is the repetitive list of symptoms with no cure in sight. What's palpable is loss, for whatever reason, and the poem uses the negaive to convey the positive, a very clever device used to its maximum effect; the only tipoff, perhaps, is in the very last line "the foreign agent's arrival," which may be a reference to an attack from 'without,' or a distance inserted into the relationship by an active, but unwanted (i.e. foreign) impetus. The open-endedness of the poem is its greatest strenght, annealed together in the tremendous passion of loss and bewilderment.

This was perfection.

Elizabeth said it above. I like it better than anything of yours that I have ever read. It is you, bare, real, your heart out there alone missing her. No fluff, no frills, no dictionary ... it is all of you. Bravo! I LOVE it!

This poem speaks of love, yet that word was never used, the longing and the absence hammered the word in. It's beautiful. I think you could change a foe of marriage into a believer.

Absolutely lovely, John, the very picture of longing and waiting. But the reason I love this so much is that it doesn't dissolve into self-pity; it's very matter-of-fact, these actions that suggest a catalogue of the sounds of another's presence, which creates a very rich human being out of the air.

John,

Yes, perfect. Charming title that leads us into a glorious journeling of need.
I sincerely love this side of your work and hope for more.

Oh, so very lovely with all the images -- the scents, the sounds, the touches, the tastes captured in the expression of anticipation of return.

THIS POEM IS ABSOLUTELY G.D. FANTASTIC !!!

DO YOU HEAR ME EVERYONE ?????

ABSOLUTELY >>> STUPENDOUS !!!

THE "ULTIMATE GROUNDED AND THEN ARISING FROM OUT OF THE CONCRETE !!!

THIS POEM IS A SOUL MIRROR COUCHED IN WORDS AND AN INSPIRATION TO ME IN MY OWN WRITING !!!

I AM STOPPING WRITING NOW TO GO YELL THE PRAISES OF THIS POEM FROM THE ROOF TOPS !!!

I 'd give this poem a kazillion/billion stars if I could!

Sinfonia domestica... your music lighter and truer, for me, than the great Richard Strauss, limned with the fine lines of absence.

You've described your feelings as a devoted and loving husband in an atmosphere of magical moments through the mundane with harmony and blessedness in an incomparable love. True beauty! You are both so lucky to have each other.

What i love first about this poem is that you create an atmosphere that is consistent throughout the poem. You create a scene which puts you in the same 'home' vicinity of the various things that your wife commonly does. The things you describe about your wife are the daily small inconsequential things that could easily be taken for granted, or not even observed to register n your mind. But, you show a true heart of love and longing by describing each little thing your wife does with action that shows a vitality that is vital to your happiness.
I took the last verse to mean a problem, or a sickness, with a relative or close friend and that being the reason she is away.

Secret agent
Femme fatale
The one you love the best
For her you now must patiently wait
As you fly away from the nest
To determine your fate
And realize your dreams
Fulfilling artistic quest!

John, I loved the sounds, smells, and liveliness of her presence including the girlfriends.
What a wonderful glimpse into your abode!

Not what she looks like, but what she does. She never appears anywhere here, not visually, swishing her Spanish skirts, flicking her black hair, but aurally, fridge, crinkling paper, by scent, onions & garlic, rose candles, laughter, by motion, her movement in the apartment just out of sight, by touch as she falls all over you. Limning her by the aura of her, the effluvia, the stardust if you will that follows her, by everything except imagining her as the visual cortex would mirror her, alone makes this poem superb. But she is also a real woman, her domesticity all about her, and not idealized, and this, too, makes the poem refreshingly different. And the missing of her all the more palpable. Her absence in the apartment, the separation to come caused by the foreign agent, the necessity of straddling continents. For no reason, I think of Wallace Stephens Sunday Morning, the cadence, the way the scene opens up from inside the heart. Where love is.

Beautiful, my dear sir, and a tribute to Inma.

I join the rave reviews, John; your detailed recounting of the daily/nightly activities of your soulmate/wife speaks to an almost over indulgent half of 'conjoined ' twins
BUT....I cannot escape from a sneaky feeling that there could be an escape clause being missed. Is it possible that your alter ego could be nourshing thoughts of being henpecked..and wanting a breather [pre-arranged ] N.B. the following ; garlic,pepper,onion ....'drenching'/ 'candles alight' '....reeking' / 'laughing attacks'..for'unearthly reasons ..'pealing forth'/ 'sudden shadows'holdfast...like ..'memories of 'bonfire'/ lips.. 'brushing past in tropic air' The last verse,as William noted, points to a transfotrmation. My reason is not similar to that of my colleague Detective Dotani [my immediate superior ] The poet returns to the personal/ wife NO YOU ANYWHERE IN VIEW[out of sight out of..] ONLY THAT HALF OF 'ME' WAITING FOR [ before she did things to/for me] 'KEY TO SLIDE IN THE LOCK[ sneaky]/ TUMBLES and CLICKS [ indicate unfamiliarity...not self assured wife ] no, who? .....'FOREIGN AGENT'!!!! If I am right I mount no challenge on the Poet's probity after all they do not necessarily write about themselves and if they do they are licensed to change character and language even. Over to you John !! P.S. I have a simple article done sometime back which my wife was not supportive of I will post it now as "Mayflies"

Like opening the belly of a whale or shark and finding a key, box, candle, shoe, snorkel, etc. your poem speaks to the stuff of life. You have the stomach and heart required for loving and losing and continued longing. This feels so very personal while being so very universal. It makes me remember to remember.

Ooooh John!
I hope she was back soon!
Thanks for such a beautiful poem. I enjoyed the rhtym; I followed the physical movements of her and those sensations of yours. A marvelous act in your domestic theatre.

This is very Taoist in its vivid description of an "object" (your wife) by describing her absence. You carefully sketch the empty space in which she belongs.

I have to ponder the last four lines, but it sounds as if she unlocks a secret part of you, a part that you never would have found without her.

Featured on Poet's Weekly Muse!!

This is very Taoist in its evocation of an "object" (your wife) by describing her absence. You eloquently sketch the empty space in which she belongs.

I have to ponder the last four lines, but it sounds as if she unlocks a secret part of you, a part that you never would have found without her.

so many have said so much above, but i will add my accolades as well as my amazement at how observant you are. many people miss the little things that make up everyday life. you embrace them, store them, color them, and revisit them with such ease and love. simple and complex, beautiful and frightening...perfect combinations, my friend. thank you.

I love this voice, John. She is a missed , this is the most beautiful sentiment of this world.No other words could describe the best relationship.It's deep and strongly effective. I admire the fragrance of your words.This time even the heart tells you, that he needs to see someone, soon.

Excellent, John. I truly appreciate this when a hubby feels that there is always 'NO' before everything...No laughing attacks for unearthly reasons

She is lucky to have you and you both are so compatible. Every woman try to find the same essence , to be missed, as you're.

and as a writer, you grabbed the best, pious emotions.

Lovely.

This poem has to be my favorite, John, even above all my other favorites. Isn't it amazing how big an absence of one little person can be!
The others' comments are so well done, anything I could add w3ould be a repeat. But I've saved it all to read again. and again.

this is forlorn and lovely..the measured anguish palpable. but the longing is in check..as the voice knows she will return rather than never ..
I like it! ..and your new icon... you are a cutie..she will not be gone for long as she would miss that sweet face..:)

I agree ... this is the real you. My favorite piece. It has brilliance, grace, pathos, humor - everything that makes a real romance - a romance that lasts, a person who brings your life to life ... I know you enjoy the dance. That's the point, eh? She is the music.

I agree with Chris' assessment - you really have covered every facet of her personality. Such a beautiful but also wistful, longing poem. And yes, the sadness in missing her is offset I hope by the return of the foreign agent.

Quite lovely.
The identification of absence hilighting its opposite, the ubiquity of presence, makes every memory into a heartfelt nuance of silence.
A brilliant image of crowded space in an empty room and the overwhelming sounds of a silent man.

I came back for a second read and to read the comments. Many of the comments were quite interesting, but Brenda Clews I took delight in for some od reason.

Agreed, Faith!

I'm sure your pain is excruciating as you get along so poignantly. The texture of this poem is so rich it's palpable. Brilliant and sad my friend

I have been back many times to read this, I love it so, and its impact still
wafts about me. The catalytic impact of the missing "agent" to activate
all of the chemistry noted and inferred, feels such a necessary ingredient,
one wonders where the authored voice will next seek or find such vital
momentum. And yet, the etched permanence of the relationship's voice
within, seems quite capable of influencing and orchestrating the magic,
even from afar, as it does in this absence....the strength of the love
not only perfumes and details the past and present with sensory extension,
but wafts with an encompassing endurance that will undoubtedly gift
its influence forever. .....and it most certainly helps to inspire and ground the Poet
as he journeys.

Oh this would be the night I picked to read your poem when even the sent of my spouse is fading from the rooms where he plays music, and kisses me into fits of giggles. No bow draws across the old violin, nor is anyone sorting through the trash to see if some neglected bottle has missed the recycle bin. Even the puppy sits on the steps looking down the drive way. This poem dances in my mind.
How sweet the missig eh John?

Intimate, charming, love-affirming. I find this inspirational.
The controls for the dishwasher are actually very straightforward, and you will find the tablets in the cupboard under the sink.
The structure of this reminds me of a poem by Ed Nudelman about Pandora's Jar (Hope).
Yes, an excellent poem.
Inspirational indeed.

Wow, John. This is such a magnificent poem in every way. It is raw and revealing, and makes the reader feel like a fly on the wall, observing these most private musings, filled with so much emotion. There is so much heartfelt love expressed in this piece, and the end is like a punch in the gut that leaves the reader wondering....Excellent write, my friend!

'There´s no wife tonight: no other half of the tale.' What a splendid verse to set the tone and theme.

beautiful and the word wife is a lovely package wrapped in precious compliments, sentiments and memories - I loved this John dear - thank you. Salud.

It sucks being on the bottom of this pile of comments - but this is such a perfect poem for me - my own wife has been gone in the evenings - and my son asks me, "what is for dinner?" I say, "Whatever moves."
I love this poem because I feel I know you well old Rainmaker and here you are making it rain in the most illogical of places - a home without your wife. The poem sprouts all sorts of details that are exactly fitted for its place in your poem.
As for me - I have shipped aboard the Death Star - and read this poem whilst there is a rumbling somewhere off in the center of things.
Great work John.

Fabulous poem. You know this woman so well.

The word I keep hearing hear in my mind is "despair". It's such a distraught piece filled with angst and real, and I do mean real, loneliness and heartache. I'm not sure what what the disfunction is or the foreign "agent" is, but obviously, their arrival has left you bewildered about the possibilities.

Wonderfully colorful piece that drives any reader to their knees in anticipation and wanting for understanding.

You have an AMAZING talent for poetry!

It seems that after this declaration, Inma does not let go John any more; other wise how we can explain his long silence lately?!

Absolute and thoughtful the relevace of your words

Bring out the dependency of granted living unaware

Cause to resonate now of those of the well togetherness

Missed worth a retake understood so sightfully well !!

You revel in whatever you write dear friend John

And also when you lovingly speculate on my

write is bent on an eye opening decree much acclaimed . . .

The teacher in you does give in insightful comments !!!

Something isn't right. I can not speculate.

John....where are you? We miss you!

bravo, john! it makes me think, and listen, to the sounds in our own home. brilliance, yet again.

Reading this again, now that you are back, yields even deeper perceptions about your poem.

It is amazing how the poet listens, observes, feels, thinks, and it is all in a poem. Thanks as always, John.

A spectacular write!

John, just a hello - this wife finally returned back to la casa! SAlud

I found this overwhelmingly beautiful.

I held my breath, listening to every sound of her, so eloquently expressed, every habit and virtue detailed exquisitely.

We now know her music preference and her decision-making at the refrigerator's second-opened door but we also know her husband, and his feeling only half when she is not there.

A touching tribute to the institution of marriage. Would that we all could be so blessed.