Saturday, July 04, 2009

Her Cottage: A Saturday Poem

Her Cottage

She said that I had the key to her cottage.
So I checked my own array, no, all of these are mine.
Car. Apartment. Mailbox. Work door. Bike lock.
I’ve really only got a few.

But she’s the opposite of flippant.
As I am, also, so I knew that something else was said.
This is not about steel on a ring, or a wooden door.
It’s something pumping.

Pulsating, I realized that cottage is the wrong word.
And here is what I know. If I had such an access,
privilege, I would never press something so hard,
against her heart.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2009


Merisi said...

Now, the key to her heart,
where is that one?

Anonymous said...

The bum probably lost it, dammit!!! It takes a woman to help a man find his keys, most of the time anyways.