Tag Archives: adultery

Your Name

I know one day
I’ll be buried
under these memories
instead of your body
draped so casually
over mine
because I’m running
out of excuses
for why I need
the entire Sunday
afternoon to do
what could be done
on any other day
in half the time—
and those lies I tell
are so flimsy
and weakened
by my love for you
that it’s just
a matter of time
before I’ll come clean
with a confession—
and your name will
be so heavy
down in my heart
I don’t know how
I’ll lift it into my voice
without breaking.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
4-4-17

“The Lovers” by Rene Magritte, 1928

After I Leave

After I leave you
I don’t adjust right away
to the familiar things
I return home to
and I don’t stop thinking
about the reasons
we work
and the reasons we don’t—
and the reasons we don’t
have nothing to do
with a deficiency of love
or lack of joy
or misplaced hope,
but the measurement
of life invested elsewhere—
in those familiar things
that breathe and need
and trust
that I’ll come home
after I’ve had time alone,
which is the lie I tell
when I walk in the door
with stories of
how rejuvenating it was
to spend time in nature—
solo—
and I feel guilty
for not wanting
a welcome home kiss
because I want yours
to be the last one on my lips.

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
4-3-17

“The Brook” by John Singer Sargent, 1907

 

Choices

One of these days
everything about our lives
that is hidden and sacred
and beautiful
will be found out
and uncovered and exposed—
everything we’ve said
and felt and done together
will be discovered
and scrutinized and judged
to be bad and wrong
and immoral and depraved
and all we’ll have left
is the choice between
who we’ve made a life with
and who we love.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
3-22-17

“Boulevard in Winter” Isaac Levitan, 1883

Photograph

 

It feels like I’ve said
almost everything I can
about the way I love you—
the way it feels warm to have you
in the center of my heart—
and how happy I am to wake up
next to that smile of yours
even if it’s just a picture of us
together on our happiest day
being silly and reckless
somewhere in the middle of our lives
which were never
supposed to converge like this
in the middle of nowhere—
and when I took that photo
deep in the woods, my right arm
wrapped tightly around you,
I wasn’t thinking
about the past or the future—
or the ethics of our union.
I wasn’t thinking that one day
I’d need to explain
what I was doing there with you—
that no one else would see what I see
in that joyful photograph—
all the love, beauty, bravery
and restoration—
the depth of feeling
words are powerless to express
or deny.

 

 

 

DeMaris
3-6-17

 

Three Months In

 

In the first month you were satisfied
with a single sentence meant for you—
a question about your views on climate change
or a query into your childhood activities—
and then a compliment exchanged on Facebook
somehow flooded your body with endorphins
that lingered all day because
another human being you’d never even met
seemed to be as curious about you
as you were about him—
and before you know it a month has passed
and you’re kissing this stranger
under the white dome of a January sky
beside a tulip tree—and this memory
will become a source of great joy
even when you begin to realize it was a mistake
to think you could cruise through February
without falling in love with his skin touching yours—
and you’re a fool to expect anything but wildflowers
to bloom in March, because you are both tethered
to stones you’re not strong enough to move.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
3-3-17

 

Photograph by Ansel Adams, “Clearing Storm”

 

 

Hesitation

It’s noble to want truth
to be the order of the day
when your heart has gone a little mad
over someone new—
but it might be best to keep it to yourself
for a while, instead of confessing
every feeling, every meeting
(even that unexpected kiss)
you weren’t supposed to have—
because time is what you need
to make sure you won’t be giving up
one mediocrity for another—
and so maybe it’s merciful
to omit the details of your new
and improved state of passion
until you know for sure that this novelty
is worth the cost of everything
you stand to lose.

 

 

 

DeMaris
1-16-17

“In the Orchard” by Andrew Wyeth, 1974, Watercolor

Day After

It seems right
to feel this high
and this happy
that yesterday
under the trees
I had him with me
in my arms
and on my lips—
and his hands
could feel
how much my body
loves him—
and for one glorious
hour everything else
in the world
disappeared—
even the fact
that we both
had to go home
to others
holding our new secret—
unsure how
the things we did
could possibly
be wrong.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
1-13-17