Tag Archives: longing

Brownies

 

Baking brownies
makes me feel
mostly
okay
mostly
at peace
with the amount
of turmoil in my life
which is probably
not much
more
or less
than yours—
whoever you are
reading this poem
on a Friday night—
and if you’re reading
this poem on a Friday night
you’d probably rather
be elsewhere
spending
time
with
the one
you love—
the one who
happens to be
at the place we’ve
identified as elsewhere
so you should make sure
you have a couple of eggs
and cocoa powder and sugar
because baking brownies
is a temporary bridge
back to that state
of being mostly
content and
mostly
okay.

 

 

 

DeMaris
6-9-17

 

“Dutch Girl Having Breakfast” by Jean-Etienne Liotard, 1756

Still Life

The thing is—
he could
he can
he does
cut me open
sometimes
just by leaving
me alone
when the space
between us
begs to be
closed
reduced
punctuated
by a word
or a promise
of nearness
but there is
so much
silence
emptiness
doubt
filling me up
I don’t know
if there will be
room for him
when he—
if—
he decides
to come.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
4-18-17

“Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog” by Caspar David Friedrich, 1818

Mad Love

Madness.
This is what you want.
This is what you hope for
crave
desire.
This is what you’ve never had.
You want love to mean necessity
no matter what.
You want love to mean
whatever it takes.
You want love
to be waiting up for you
longing for you
searching for you
carving out a place for you
dying for a moment with you—
sometimes you want love to say
just a minute
to everything but you—
You,
who would give life and limb
to hold such passion in your arms—
to breathe it
swallow it
become it—
this is what you want
on a night like this
when everything you have to give
is contained inside you
boiling
steaming
waiting to be wanted
and consumed—
all of it going
to such terrible waste.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
3-1-17

 

“Lady of Shalott” John William Waterhouse, 1888

Little Earthquakes

Love
has no power
in the night
when your need
for him becomes
a tremor
you cannot calm—
and throughout
the dark hours
little earthquakes
disrupt your sleep
even though
he’s professed to you
an equal depth
of feeling—
but there is no magic
that can turn
your body into hers
when she wakes up
in the circle
of his arms.

 

 

 

DeMaris
2-25-17

Photo by Deanna Morae

 

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”

Proposition

If his happiness was whole
my love for him could remain
a stagnant pool
contained inside my chest—
it would be enough
to know his love was returned
by someone he adored—
but when I became to him
a sympathetic confidant
entrusted with the status of his love,
I couldn’t help but quiver
at reports of insufficient affections
and uninspiring conversations—
so how can I be blamed for wishing
to remedy these deficiencies
by molding my body around his form
and whispering in his ear
a reminder that this world contains
alternative sources of happiness—
and I’d like very much
to be one of them.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
2-21-17

Painting by Pablo Picasso “Girl Before a Mirror” 1932