new poem!

[aithne]

ink

1.

The problem with loving writers
is that they write about you:

before,
during,
and most especially

after


2.

you know when you leave them
that the world will soon know
what a bitch you are

the exact length and breadth of your betrayals
each one described in sensual, exacting detail

if you're lucky
they will never discover
your affair with the neighbor

because you'll be hearing about that forever, too


3.

I lie helpless. Your words are tongues
in all of my secrets, moving damply
among all the dark and dreary things
I thought worthless except as trouble

to you, they are worthy.
they are material.


4.

but worse than being written about
is the agony of not being written of;
not a single poem or story or letter to a friend
to make you real to the world

without them you are undefined

an empty page in the dictionary.


5.

yet there is whispered poetry in the wee hours
the lovely things they say about you
the love they make with pen and ink

they understand that the skin is a canvas
that mouths and fingers and tongues
are brushes and pens
and blood is ink

they fill shoeboxes with letters
reminders that you could be loved

like that


6.

the problem with loving writers
is that they write about you:

before, after,
and especially

during