Rebecca Lu Kiernan
V3:E9 September, 2001
I had planned to leave the house a disaster,
dishes in the copper sink, the almond bed
unmade, garbage not taken out.
I could just see him angrily cleaning. He
would curse me, twirling a mop, picking
up old newspapers.
I changed my mind.
I did the usual chores, except, I mopped
with plain water and wiped everything
down with a damp sponge, careful not to
leave a cleaning smell to hit him.
I imagined him coming home to the silent
house, eyes dancing over the vacancy,
walls where my Klimt and Kandinsky hung,
squares of space where my cherry desk,
red leather sofa and chessboard end tables
had lived. I removed the pillows from their
gray eyelet cases and spurted them
with a microscopic hint of my perfume.
Spreading myself out on the comforter,
I made myself perspire.
I smile just thinking
of such perfect haunting
my skin, my sweat, my sex,
my arms, my lips, my hair
fingering his dreams
with unbearable restraint.
Ms. Magazine, Gargoyle, Longshot, New Works Review, Southern Ocean Review, Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine, Exquisite Corpse, 2River View, Naked Poetry, North American Review, etc.
Sex With Trees And Others Things Equally Responsive
Nominated For The General Electric Award For Writers, Rhysling nomination
Current | Previous
Submit | Editors
Join | Donate
Links | Contact