Day 25

Days are easy until they’re hard.

—

Comely

With it lit in her hand, the stereo
up louder, louder, the bass: deeper, deeper
she cries the lyrics “Oh comely. Oh comely.”

To her mouth the cigarette, her head
remembering the time they sang this together
in the car “I will be with you when you lose your breath”
on New Year’s Day and the promises of forever
taken back just three weeks ago
and hope of nothing

Blackness, the rain falling, the bass booming

Back to her mouth the smoke, the fig taste,
the forgiveness; I hate when you smoke
but none of that matters, none of that matters
it’s on repeat “Oh comely. Oh comely.”

To God: why? For you to get the glory, the credit,
your ya-ya’s? Her pain: it’s nothing, nothing
tomorrow she’ll forget and move on and nothing
ten years and she’ll forget
ten years and she’ll be married, happy
ten years and she’ll miss him and their dog named
after a song and their son

She coughs she coughs she coughs
and spits, he used to spit like this and wash
his hands after his smoke and wash his face
and kiss her
the smell lingered

If you’re here where are you? If you care
show up

December 5, 2011

Posted in Poetry.