Tag Archives: daydream

Nights Like This

Nights like this

you wish he would

show up at your door

out of the blue sorrow

you’ve been swimming in.

Nights like this

you imagine yourself letting go.

You imagine breaking

the tight grip of every restraint

propriety has on you.

Nights like this

you are alone enough

to imagine yourself

out of bounds.

You are alone enough

to imagine yourself bold.

Nights like this

are nights

when he never comes.

Out Loud

Hearing myself speak
to a dear old friend
at the grocery store
about the one I loved
was a revelation—
and pulled out of me a few facts
I’d never heard out loud—
facts like:
I loved him because…
But this…
But that…
We didn’t…
We couldn’t…
and I watched pity
twist her face into a grimace
filled with an empathy
reserved for those
who should know better
than to put all one’s eggs
into one basket—
and because I had a dozen
in my cart as well as
frozen meatballs
and frozen fish,
I thought it best to part
before I let the truth
finish another sentence.
I said, He didn’t want me
to put my life on hold…
but the truth
was finished when the words
he didn’t want me
landed in my ears
and put a fresh sting
into my long dry eyes.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
5-1-18

“Two Women on the Hillside” by Franz Marc, 1906

 

Filter

The filter is on
and love is squirming
twisting
trying to say
what it feels
like it needs to say
but I am the gatekeeper
who decides
how much
should be revealed
and I have one finger
on the trigger
one foot on the gas
another finger
over the barrel
and one heel
about to catch fire
from all this friction
all this dragging
all this restraint
that is supposed
to save me
from embarrassment
and the sudden
doe-eyed expression
on my face
that contains
every truth I can
never say.

 

 

 

DeMaris
1-2-17

Painting by Vilhelm Hammershoi, public domain

Spectator

I think of you
wandering alone
through the dense
clusters of bluebells
and wood poppies
to the place where
wildness takes over
and replaces your worry
with calm—
and you opened
that door for me once
and led me into
your private sanctuary
where everything
was in bloom
and seemed perfectly
untamed
and without taint
and I felt the excitement
of a tourist
getting a glimpse
of paradise so pure
my temporary presence
must have seemed to you
a small contamination.

 

 

 

DeMaris
4-17-17

Music

Some songs
require silence
after you hear them
on the radio
because the taste
they leave
in your mouth
is so sweet
nothing that follows
could arouse in you
an equal bliss
except to see
that face you love—
the one conjured
by that song—
or to somehow
hear the music
of his voice again
whispering
something holy
into your ear.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
2-23-17

Painting by Pablo Picasso, “Three Musicians”

Weeds

How dramatic
love insists on being—
as if its source
were as uncommon
as a wildflower
blooming
into the warm air
of a Midwestern
February afternoon—
but it happens
all the time
and is as common
as the dandelions
that begin their long
stretch in April—
then August comes
bringing proof
that even the most
exotic and precious
blooms require
a kind of care
we are unable to give
when we find ourselves
waist high in weeds
we were certain
would never take root.

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
2-21-17

 

 

 

 

Waiting

I float into the night
anticipating
how you will feel
tomorrow
when there is nothing
between us
but warm water
and skin so lonely
we will need
to cover each other
with tenderness
to help ease
the exit wound
that will follow us home
after we pick up
our blankets
from the forest floor
and kiss goodbye.

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
1-25-17

“Sun Shield” Andrew Wyeth, Watercolor 1982