SHOUT OUT

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SHOUT OUT

Uneasy, when it came to sex,
You made me feel
I was doing you wrong.
Your body stiffened,
And, I remember, once you said,
“Too incredibly intimate!”

Later I watched in movies,
Men drop to the knees,
It seemed nothing special,
No more than regular business,
Hollywood presents its usual fare.

In a recent film with a Bedouin setting,
North Africa, camels on route,
Over windy hills of sand, oasis to oasis,
Hardly a trend setter,
The lead takes his captive,
Calls her wife number three, and there
Within the walls of his village home,
He keels. While camera spies,
He takes love by mouth.

Since I last had knelt before you,
Months have passed.
I wish I might kneel now,
Just as does the sheik in the movie!

But you, you are gone.
And with you, too, went
Health, and work, and sleep,
They have fled irrevocably!

I wake in the middle of shouts.
                                     
I picture you and our last night at dinner.
I see you there sitting before the table,
And in a fleeting glimpse I recall your delight,
How you savor and chew upon your meal.

 

 I rise up from my bed and return to my desk.
I try to write,
But swoon instead.
My night shirt has the wet of perspiration,
Down my back and well below
The neckline binding at its front.

Were I not lost, driven to distraction,
Were I able to clear the mind
And gain once more a proper bearing,
This poem might read better by far.

'Oh, Oh goodness!'

Though I am up and about,
Ready to write before the computer screen,
I feel a faint. My stomach is turning,

'Fetch a chair!' I say aloud in my empty home office.

'Never mind.  I’m fine.  I’m okay.'
(As if somebody here bothers to listen.)

'It’s just this summer's terrible heat!'