Saturday, October 25, 2008

Like Clove: A Saturday Poem

Like Clove

Around one I hoped you would be the last to leave.

I had never talked to anyone like this, like we did,

and you were still there at two. I watched as you

quickly gathered your things, girlfriends tugging.

Longing in your eyes as we shook hands?
A feeling of not wanting to open mine ever again.

When I finally did, there was your scarf left behind,

and me wanting to hang myself with it. Fearfully,

the myth of you mingled with this scent of clove.

Thread and fiber I shall keep, one day wrapping

the back of your neck and drawing to my lips

yours. Giving to you what is not mine anymore.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Zounds, cipriano! I am so there in this poem. . . (or rather I wish I were.)