I remember how you nailed me, up against the wall

my limbs hung like a picture you wanted to remember.  

I know what boys want—those awful thunderbolts—

but you look more of a man with [your] beard

grown in, and I have grown tired of wrangling.

I was pale with excitement, drawing out the thing

by the hour, but you can’t fool a lover. 

Once or twice I had a suspicion.

I found the long hair on [your] coat.

Tell me who are you thinking of?

Who is it? Tell me [a] name.

I am not a nymph like Calypso.

Nor I am Helen of Troy.

For years, I walked beside you and now

I wake up alone every morning

to unravel another day at the loom.

Waiting and waiting for what?

Every day is an odyssey

and I am as cunning as no man

traversing the cosmos alone.

Copyright 2017 | Pet Murmur