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Throes
by
C.B. Anderson
I'd kill myself,
but now it's much
too late.
I might have wished
it weren't the
thoughts I bore
But something
I declined, then
later ate,
That brought the
roiling to my
belly. Poor
Of me to think
such thoughts
at all, but then
To speak my mind
and call her names,
undo
The final threads
that bound us
-- that was when
She led him off
and dropped the
other shoe.
There was a time
her thoughtful
tongue spoke magic,
And when I watched
her kiss him on
the lips
I felt the spell
transshipped.
Not half so tragic
That touch, as
when she joined
him to her hips.
©
2009 by C.B. Anderson
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About the Author
C.B.
Anderson
was the longtime
gardener for the
PBS television
series, The Victory
Garden. Many scores
of his poems have
appeared in dozens
of print and electronic
journals. His
e-chapbook, A
Walk in the Dark,
can be read on
the website of
The New Formalist
Press. |
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