Coyote. {poetry}
{source}
… drank a glass of water
smoked a cigarette
got things on my mind
that feel like…
regret
been thinking bout
how I let you in
gave you the key
and said
let’s begin
this white hot thing
that just got hotter…
the kisses
the bites
the stolen hours
the end of the day
came far too slow
you would be here tonight
if I didn’t know
that playing a game
of how much how far
your means to an end
would leave a scar
I’ve got enough of those to know
when you didn’t text, didn’t show
that you got what you wanted
moved along
pulled the rug out from under me
quick and strong
to the next… to the last
I’ll never know
It was fun while it was
but when does it end
your answer to that
was just call me friend
tried to walk it off
… tried to shake you off
the memories won’t change
but people do
and when they do, they just seem
so strange
arms, then legs that coiled… slow
your tongue with whispers of
let me know
the longing
the touching
the final blow
the want was there
I wasn’t alone
it’s need
that remains… in minor tone
to question your motives
is useless to me
to know each one won’t set me free
can’t drink it away
can’t hide from the truth
this is business as usual for you…
shared life stories
between lips that seared
my flesh
remembers
the prick of your beard
your eyes screamed
more and more and more
my body my mind
your private whore
I tapped out… enough
and you agreed
not in words…
but in the speed of how
you disappeared
from view
just like you came
… came out of the blue
I know — today —
that I’ll be fine
keep my hands to myself
stay off the wine
don’t look at the phone
like it stole my money
and avoid like the plague
my gone… sweet… honey
How you are is a question
I can’t afford to ask
I’ve paid too much
for that answer
in thoughts of the past
It helps to write these words
(I tell myself, don’t send)
to mend the hole in my heart
that comes with the end
of something held up
to the future
to shine
In a light made by us
(in my own mind)
Goodbye
is the word I’m looking for,
there it is,
I said it
now there’s nothing more
gotta breathe, get some water
smoke a cigarette
get this thing off my mind…
that feels like regret…
*****
Charan Rose is a grandmother, mother, sister, aunt, niece and cousin to many, a wife to none. She grew up late in life, on her hands and knees, searching for fossils and long-forgotten artifacts in the remote fields of Texas and Oklahoma. With each one she found, she said, ‘Hello, I see you, I know you were here’. She has too many pets and not enough time to tend to the crying baby that is her (he)art. She studied her children and the earth, and got a PhD in Hopelessly Grasping at Immortality just recently. The submissions for others’ ultimate approval, the art, photography and writings, are her hieroglyphs — proof she existed, which is all any of us can hope for.
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