Poetic Interlude XLVI

This poem, and others like it, are available in  Patchwork Narrative, my slim volume of poetry, available here and here. Enjoy!

Champagne, Silk, Steel
My cufflinks clink against the glass
Filled with gas-station champagne.
It’s Californian, and regrettably cheap.
 
You asked to come by, tonight.
I knew what I must do, how
I must comport myself.
 
There is a rhythm to these things;
And you know how I like to
Observe the proprieties.
 
I knew, when you asked to come,
I’d cast you aside, a ring into the sea.
I’d be wed to the loss of you,
Wake up with your lack each morning.
 
You, of course, didn’t react.
 
I, of course, will never move on –
I shall dwell in a memory of something that never happened,
Wearing a suit bought for our unplanned wedding,
Praising you, to a congregation of cats,
A sad person, in silk, and champagne.
 
I drain each bottle, glass by glass,
And, from out the East, drain sun after sun.
Song after song enters the star that was my soul,
And, for love of you,
I go nova.
 
I can’t, for the life of me, tell
If the tears or the champagne are staining the silk.
I can’t, for the life of me, tell
If it’s my love for you, or the lack of you,
That gently lifts me to a cabinet of pistols –
 
-to view them, of course.
The ammunition’s in quite another room, my sweet.
 
Regardless, when I think of you,
I remember champagne on silk,
And the taste of blued steel.
 
 
There are times, my love, when I wonder,
If I had never met you, how young I would have died,
And if you had never met me, how
You would have ever survived.
 
The pregnant moon has come and gone, now.
She came, yawned once, and returned to her bed.
I must make do
With the friendship of the fountain,
Tinkling at dawn.
I can learn from her;
She always cries.
 
I grow weary of mourning, each morning,
But what else is to be done?
Even if things had gone according to plan,
I never would have been your bride.
What use is my story?
There are nine billion beside –

©2014 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved

Advertisements

About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
This entry was posted in Poetic Interludes and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Poetic Interlude XLVI

  1. Andrea says:

    This is my absolute favorite.

    • Actually, despite the despair I felt while I was writing it – it was one of my favorite to write. Thank you. Originally, when I started arranging Patchwork Narrative, the whole text was framed between Acolyte (Enlighten me, Immortal man, elucidate your pupil who – that one) and this poem; as it turns out, that slim volume was about me, and not about my Ex-husband. ❤

  2. linnetmoss says:

    Very nice, the cufflinks my favorite detail.

Have something to say, darling? Don't be shy!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s