I’ve had so many names
First,
daughter
But that was missing
The phrase that described
The need to incoherently
Rupture each established truth.
Pretty curls didn’t mask
The introversion that
created tiny graves
For each who laughed.
Then
student,
And that was missing
Some element that accounted
For a desire for mastery.
Wife
Was equally inconsiderate
Of the want for mastery
That daughter was.
That irritating need for medum beati
Which rendered marriage
As meaningful as spectacles
For a blind man.
And then there is lover,
Adored one.
If I could laugh
Without tearing the tendon
That holds my heart in place,
I’d tell you that ultimately
That is the most lacking of all.
Daughter has blood.
Student has need.
Wife has law.
But lover?
When the books are packed
And the smiling pictures placed
Firmly, in a never dusted corner
Of an ill lit closet
Lover has nothing
But a dead language
No one will ever speak again.
Sunday, May 17, 1998