Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

Archive for May 2014

my mother plays games

she charges more than i make in a week and i’ve seen her naked ass on a VHS i found in the garage. house calls are dog days of sitting in the van; waiting for her to come back. i am a ten percent margin of error, i think. the rings she has are not big enough for her and too big for me; i am lost in the curves […]

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Love is

Love is running the back of a finger along the healthy curve of an infant’s forearm. It is rubbing the soft fullness of a cheek-to-cheek. Love is the baby powder and burps. Love is the way your milk lets down at the sound of a siren and how the weight in your arms fills you with joy.   Love is being unable to sleep as you think about the problem […]

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Getting Religion at A&W

A plastic cup hit the tile. The ice clinked. Soda surged like an outgoing tide.   “I’m sorry Mommy.”   I bent tired legs, knees screeching as I knelt on the sticky floor.   There were things down there I didn’t want to see: Dog hair, an old fruit loop. A stinky kitchen rag swiped through the spreading brown ocean of root beer.   And…   I was fourteen again. […]

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Mauve and Vermillion

Mauve   Mauve pale bruised purple lips of a girl loved too well, the cold flush of an eggplant’s flesh; the sultry bubble slow and breathy filtering through the room.   It is the slick taste of her lipstick. Wine, clotted with tannins, hours after. The peace a mouth settles into after sex. She has become them: the blinds’ soft fingertips crafting maps of the world, wanting to touch every […]

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For Kate, Always

Our Chaucer, I think, would have sighed. He would have assured us, shaking his sorrowful head, That day the solar system married us Whether we knew it or not –Ted Hughes   Now that we spent an afternoon with Crow. Now in the breadth of highway between us. Now after your presented death and my Wide like a canyon, like the end Of God’s whip, I can appreciate Our limestone. […]

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Ready or Not

I thought I was ready, bread rising above The bowl ready, Like Christmas-for-a-five-year-old ready. Like I’m too young to be a widow ready.   I didn’t know cell phones and secrets And laptops and lying, or dating.com. Couldn’t imagine hunter and prey. Stop right here. Just picture my Innocence.   I wrote my description and then I got mail. I was fresh paint, not yet dry. He said I was […]

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If you had been my online lover,

I could not have wooed you as I did. I would not have written letters in midnight blue ink on deckle edged paper,   carefully considered words from my attic of endearments reminiscent of a monogrammed hankie, a pressed carnation, whiff of cologne.   Your responses inspired me to write poems: images of holding hands across miles of longing. You write as you speak: witty, debonair. The baritone of your […]

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Sweater Weather

For a former lover   One month ago, you left. Your sweater— burgundy cashmere—lies forgotten, flung over my wingback chair, draped   casually like your arm on my shoulder, releasing the smell of apples and pine cones we gathered that week as we walked hand in hand,   silent against a sudden slap of early autumn. Walking faster, then running, we knew we edged closer to the inevitable   downhill […]

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A Sea Change

They’ve replaced your hips with cigar boxes that once held nuts and screws and fuses blown years before, but surely too valuable to toss away, the tungsten nearly intact, and who can ever know what we’ll need one day? Where were bones are metal rods instead, threaded for fittings that are counter-sunk and set for heavy lifting. This should serve when the gulls swoop low to mock us to our […]

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The Anatomy of Longing

When he looks inside, the doctor says, You’re fine, save for a few loose parts even he can’t name. That might be why I feel so hollowed out when he tells me Breathe, and then, Again, and I admit to myself, if not to him, I know this feeling from before, a time I was young and hollowed out for sure. He says, Medicine has no name for this, but […]

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