She’s gone to Milan
and left her perfume in the closet
sweet cheek and neck
hanging with the coats
Her hoodie lies crumpled
in the bidet
it’s clean enough to do that
she tells me
but I know
I wash my balls in there
I don’t know when she’ll be back
I have a faint idea
but
until then
I’ll just have to walk the rooms
wondering
checking the curtains to see
if any of her warmth
still creeps from the window
where she stood before lunch
Comments
Stan | February 4, 2012 - 00:19
Oh, what a great poem. Made me smile, made me laugh... made me think. That second stanza's inspired!
scoot | February 5, 2012 - 12:53
nice poem, so earthed in object images. and a light note of humour. it's not despair, right? no wringing of hands. you never had to mention how you feel, but we know. not distraught, but a bit miserable. nice.
Karen
shoe | February 5, 2012 - 18:35
Like it.
the unfolding head | February 7, 2012 - 12:03
Thanks Stan, really appreciate it!
the unfolding head | February 7, 2012 - 12:06
Hi Karen
No not despair... born out of a feeling of neediness. Glad you enjoyed, thanks for saying.
the unfolding head | February 7, 2012 - 12:06
churrs shoe
ScoZen | February 8, 2012 - 21:22
Liked this one.
I was looking through your photo's seeking a Milan pic to go with it.