2 new poems

February 10th Perspectives

he still sees himself
as a much younger man
a very smooth and sophisticated man

he still likes to saunter
with pocketed hands
and imagine a ll the girls
turning and smiling and
touching themselves
lightly, finger to lips,
upon delicate throats

he slays them and they
return for Act II and
III and so on

it is my habit to observe
it is my misfortune
to recognize
in a patriarchal society
a man can saunter
to his grave,
confident that there will always
be at least one long-legged woman
with supposed fire
in her groin
and blinding stars
in her eyes.

Febraury 11th How She Imagines My Life

she lives vicariously
as any woman would
kept in a cocoon
of her husband's design

she doesn't know how I
throw myself into space
hurtling past meteors and jagged
massive flying objects

it is never an easy
thing breaking down walls
or bending the wirey
spindles of one's cage

I tell her to beware
there will appear hands
some old and vein-y, others
young, seamless

holding and letting go
holding and letting go
the wet
uncertain palms

once God had made
Himself known to me
I realized that it's all
just a matter of time

the only thing that keeps me alive
is my desperate need
to create my moment of
imagined immortality

to scream in a silent voice
stubborn and resigned as
my little roan horse
who will not yield,
who feigns sleep against
the taut rein I hold
and closed her watchful eye.

karensaint