kept woman

it's funny to see her pose and smile
for she mostly scowled and frowned as a child
it's funny to see the promises she used to bear on her chest
linger now only in her eyes

one moment

it was the glint in the eye at something so uncommon
so brazenly natural
that revealed the honesty of that moment
and made me cower in that garden like adam

as if to be so intimate in expression...
and to feel so met in mind
with someone other than my absentee lover
were to sin...

so i barricaded the walls and let the understanding flounder
in excuses of busyness and inescapable circumstance

and then wondered if i were less any cheap...

blinkered starlet

she wants to create art
but can you? without a sympathy for the human condition?
films, scripts! she says
but not TRUTH, never her personal truth

never there

i lock my door at night
as if to lock myself from them
even if they would not come in were it open

i keep my suitcase packed
though the packing's never finished...
should i hope for winter?
or summer?
or a particular kind of vocation?