A Twice-Told Tale

There's almost nothing in the cupboard
For a hungry man to eat, some crumbs
Suggestive of a meal, a crystal here and
There of salt, and some of sugar,
Dessicated tatters of Italian herbs,
And something sticky, maybe gravy.
All, he drags up with a finger, puts
To tongue and smiles weakly; so
Suggestive of the feast he never
Got to have.


It's not as if I haven't anything to do.
I have a list. In truth, it's three-fourths
Paltry things. It looks as if we're out
Of milk. A gutter's clogged. A car,
I can't remember which, needs oil
Changed, but other items turn up, too.
I have some poetry to read, some essays,
And I need to take the time to order
Scattered thoughts. The first concern
My love for you. What good is it
(For either of us)? You seem to enjoy
My visits, but you won't be seen with me.
When asked, you talk about yourself,
But you've no interest in me, and, though
I think you're beautiful, a flame-haired
Goddess glowing through her silence
In a dismal place, it's evident we won't
Embrace. “We” won't be more than what
We are, and anyone with any sense would
Say my love amounts to nothing. How
Am I to deal with this? I don't want
To hurt you, but I wonder if my leaving
Would, and I already have been hurt,
So should I stay and bear the pain, perhaps
For nothing? Should I go, be done with
One thing, and address the others
On my list?



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 56 times
Written on 2015-03-02 at 10:47

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