Solitary Illusion of Love
You shuddered when the chair fell
against the door
and I saw our future illuminated in the scratches
that were scarred into
near the bronze hinges.
But Hanna did throw a tantrum the other day
when I asked her to come in and
wash up for supper.
I had just put the noodles into the boiling water.
Red faced under the bright white sky
she glared at me.
Furious blond curls full of dirt
sticking to her skin
as she unbridled her anger
yelling “I hate you!”
I didn’t have it in my heart to punish her.
So I told her to go to hell
and walked back into the house
to dump the noodles down the sink.
I made a cocktail and smoked a cigarette
as I ground up the meal
in the garbage disposal
listening to the music it made
than if I were at an opera house
performing Orpheus in the Underworld.
How is that for an appropriate response?
I don’t know the feel of you any longer.
When your arms surround me
in the evening
and you lead me to bed
where your grappling hands clench my
smelling of minty contempt
scraps along the nape
of my neck
and my lips resign themselves
all I taste
is the sanitizing turmoil of disdain
But let’s just leave the jumbled pieces of the chair
where they are.
Where we are.
So they may be a reminder that
we may be to each other
at least we will be
And I will remain with you
that solitary illusion of love
which you seek.