Four Poems

Wild Horses

It is the last summer of your youth; overripe fruit on low hanging branches, poolsides and
expensive dinners your parents pay for, oysters and sashimi spreads on your patio table,
oleander petals in your Paloma. You put on that record you like; I’m not in love, so don’t forget it.
You dance, you’re wearing champagne silk and you’re dizzy before the song is over. You think to
yourself that this is all you’ll ever be, and it doesn’t scare you yet. So you throw a party, invite all
your friends, but they don’t show up because they’ve all grown up and left you behind like a
child at the top of the staircase, looking down at the party beneath you and wondering what it
must feel like to dance with meaning. You will sit at the end of your bed and put on a western so
you can listen to the stampeding of the horses and hope that one day they may carry you away,
so you too can finally grow up and have meaning. No more poolsides, no more sashimi for
breakfast, no more oleander in your drinks.

A World Alone

We always end up by the poolside after everyone else has gone home.
Our little sacred routine. Him, I, this soapy pool under luminescence.
Him with a cigarette tucked between his fingers,
me with an ache in my chest.
The lighter makes his hair glow a thousand shades of blond,
I try to count every hair on his head.
In another universe I will run my hands through it
and not feel guilty.

He blows the smoke over his shoulder, he knows I hate the smell.
He knows everything about me, and loves me anyway.
I hate it. The capacity to love and to be loved, virtues,
for which I have neither.
Still, the insatiable part of me wants it,
I’ll call it attention so I don’t feel guilty about the ache.

Night Swim

I only recognize your face under moonlight.
Lighter in your shirt pocket,
Watch smoke rise by the poolside,
I soak my head under chlorine foam.
Chip my nail polish on your teeth,
Blinding whites, sea moss fingers.
You only hold me this close at night,
You disappear with dawn,
Let this city eat you alive.
I wait by the phone and
Paint over the cracks in my nails.
Freedom feels so far away,
There should be more to us than moonlit pools,
Cigarette between your lips,
Bleach in my hair,
My fingers are pruning.

I loathe daybreak,
I’ve made an enemy of the sun.

Break-Up

I watch through the slats in louver doors, the coats pile up
for a party I wasn’t invited to.
My ribs ache, the air is stiff,
a silk dress caresses my cheek.
The guests sing a soft lullaby in the room over.
A fly on the wall, a mirror that I’m staring into.
There’s a ribbon tied to the bedpost, one I used once to tie back my hair,
is it possible to believe that I once belonged here?
Are your dreams so sweet because I am so near?
I too, could sing a thousand lullabies,
champagne fizz, kitten fur, drooping poinsettias,
time will pass regardless, the party will end, I will leave.
But I will be here.
My hair tie on your bedpost, my perfume on your pillow, my dress
in your closet, where I watch your room through slatted fragments.
But I still remember your bed, plush cotton, duck feather, starch linen.