contempt (four poems)

“I do not understand what I do.” The Apostle Paul (Romans 7:15)

i. the mirrors

The day arrived
when the darkness crept in
like a lame animal
and wrapped itself
round my feet in repose.
It sighed, and I sighed,
and I put out
a plate of leftovers
and let it stay the night.

ii. me, now

Taking You to my lips
means less of everything,
means nothing else,
means everything all together.
But I like to think
that even when I return
he snarls at the wine on my breath
and the crumbs in my beard,
like a jealous lover
over lipstick
on my
collar.

It makes me think,
just maybe,
I can hate him
enough to leave him
for good.

But for
now,

I’ll return again to this table
and drink deeply
of Love
until the sun rises
on the morning after.

iii. the smoke

Before I lit the match,
I looked too close –
negatives and clippings
in the brown paper bag,
clinging, static, to the side
of shoeboxed memoirs.
What a life. It was a life.

I don’t hate you,
not like I should,
I just need to burn
something to ash
to know I’m different now.

Last night
I woke
to the smell of smoke —
I’m different now.
But I still rock myself to sleep,
slow and desperate
next to you.

iv. You, once

I would live as if You had
brushed my lips with Your finger
not a second ago,
lifted a lock of hair back,
and looked me in the eyes.

I would live as if nothing
mattered but that moment,
that my days would be spent
in recall
and repetition.

My days are not spent
this way, so
I wish them gone
for the sake of tomorrow,
for maybe tomorrow
I will be better,
tomorrow
I will be closer,
tomorrow
I will be…

Some things just
aren’t worth the time.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow,
and tomorrow —
I will kiss You
again,

but until
tomorrow,
kiss me.