Tag Archives: human condition

September Revelation 

Dearest
It occurred to me
Only today
That I might not
Love you
Forever
Or uninterrupted
That whatever we are
Might just
Be for now
For the time being
Until something
Happens
To bend
Break
Sever
Our bond
Which is only
A feeling in the air
Between us
And someone else
Might step in
To take you
Lure you
Steal your heart
Or my heart
Away
Which happens
All the time
Because I am not
The only one
And you
Are not
The only one
Who can make me laugh
Or bring me
The kind of joy
That inspires
A commitment
To the lie
That love
Is irreplaceable
And always true.

DeMaris
9-21-17

Meaning

So tempting
to think rain
must mean
god is expressing
emotion,
sharing
in your epic
melancholy—
or the collision
between the semi
and the car
in front of you
means you were
favored
over the two children
who ended up
in the ER—
and the dead
towhee you almost
stepped on
must have been
placed on the trail
as a reminder
of how quick
and unfairly
all this might come
to an end—
and the
coneflower
must possess
all the magic
of the universe
because it leaves you
with the truth
after you pluck
its petals—
“he loves me”
which means
you can ignore
all the other signs
that say he doesn’t.

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
8-29-17

Frayed

 

After all this time
you thought that love
might be floating
in the air between you—
might be settling
onto your skin
like a favorite
flannel shirt with
frayed edges so soft
you don’t want
to remove it for anything—
but maybe you don’t feel
the same to him
because he doesn’t seem
to want you
wrapped around him
in those photographs
he offers to the public eye
wearing that smile
you were certain
was meant only for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
8-7-17

“The Gleaner” by Jules Adolphe Breton, 1900

Out Loud

Now that it’s over
and I begin to speak of us
out loud in past tense
I am able to listen
to myself
explain to others
how a perfectly
complacent marriage
became a severing
of the cleanest kind
without war or bitterness
or even regret
because neither of us
will take responsibility
for our contribution—
which is that detail
each of us will leave out
when we hear ourselves
tell our side of the story.

 

 

 

DeMaris
5-13-17

 

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

 

Exit Strategy

You need one
even if you think
you’ll never use it —
go ahead and plan your escape
while you’re still in love
and still think
maybe it will all work out okay—
that he’ll begin to see you
the way you see him—
with a power to illuminate
everything
like a candle in the middle
of a midnight room,
making even the darkest spaces
glow
with the soft light of hope—
but you know how quickly
a fire can start
and get out of control
if even the gentlest wind
blows a corner of the curtain
into the hot yellow wick—
so you need to listen
for that intuitive alarm
inside your smoldering heart
which will go off
when you’re close
to getting burned—
and it will sound like the wail
of a fire truck off in the distance
except it will be you, crying,
as you make your way
to one of your
designated exits
which might be the bathroom
or the basement—
but don’t expect a rescue.
You’ll need to save yourself
this time
or your whole heart
will go up in flames.

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
4-2-17

Lost Love Almanac, Entry #1

I don’t have a photograph
of my favorite memory with you—
you sitting at the kitchen table
with your reading glasses on
after you’d just read to me
a passage from your favorite book.
You look so content
with your eyes settled on the page—
and this snapshot is clearer to me
than any photograph of you
looking happy or silly or serious—
and I pretend in that moment
we both forgot that there was
a clock on the wall pointing out
it was time for me to get home.

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris-
4-2-17