2003 First Place winner in the iVillage 4th Annual Poetry Slam.

http://www.ivillage.com/books

Obstructing a Poet

I can say your name
in three languages.
I go through my day
item by item,
doing everyday things
with you
way
in the back of my mind,
buried
under lists, grievances,
stock market quotes and
guilt.
Impatient for the next assignation
though I've left you only seconds ago.
At nine pm, they expect me to concentrate,
give a reading that moves them to tears.
Something about
salt-encrusted scallop shells
and drunken fishermen. I've yet
to give it a damn title.
Everett will be there, of course,
Jenna, too. He will chew on the stem
of his best pipe and she
will tear at her hair to heighten
her mascara-rimmed angst.
They will be haughty, untouchable,
and half in the bag
before I take the mic.
Can't erase the image of your hair:
steely gray, striking
against the royal blue pillowcase.
(you really do need to get it cut;
God, you're so bad about those sorts of things)
Your non-presence is a presence,
an interference. What do you say
to Boney James and Kahlua, a little
something to take the edge off?
Grab two hours between life;
you'll be back home by midnight
and no one has to know.
Say my name in French,
but say it
in my bed
with your arms around my soul.



© P. Gomes 2003