Ode to the Stupid, Spinny Wheel Which Does NOT Bring Mail …

O Stupid Spinny Wheel
with your false promises
of lush attentiveness
making the pathetic pine
into a practically professional

you yield a lot of nothing!
you make a hater of a lover
someone who once recited
wisdom poems of owls and rabbits, and looked longingly
to baskets filled with eggs
of cream –
well, she dreads the coming season now
(which anything could bring).

and she, with no chance for
will be forced to sing a dwindling truth built on an ever hazing memory –
and recent flesh will grow tauter, the breathing
ever hotter. in the eye –
new thighs surrounding
new trembling lips to ride … so
her chest will live inside her shoes
her throat will house burned eyes
her stomach churn the blues
But in self defense she’ll drink a lesser vintage
to his happiness.
Wiping her lips upon the bitterness she will try to forget the sweetness.

And the stupid spinny wheel
which used to give gifts every day
will mock. say, “go
look at all the things you
cannot have!
Imagine all the warm things –
all your words
all the places where your tongue had burned a path
being blasphemed against!
the only crime of which –
that they could not possibly
love you like I did …”

Love you better
Faster stronger longer
but not more.
On that I win the race.
You kept me in a jar.
And I can never wander far
into deep space..

*March, 2011

Ode to the Stupid, Spinny Wheel Which Does NOT Bring Mail …

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