Poet N sends The First

(coming from the heart)

   An end
      A beginning.

Re-arrange the furniture
Re-fill the drawers and closets
Paint the kitchen
     Fill that void
A hole has been created.

Another woman?
An other man?

First puppy love and naivete
      Second love and hope
          Third love or money?

Have I learned lessons?
Will I remember?

It's the core that cries.

a friend sends a poem…

Anatomy Of Divorce: A Poem Cycle

by N

The Last Poem

We decided the only way to figure out the situation
was to meet in a motel room. .
Each pay half.
Lock ourselves in until we figured it out.
I tried calling a motel to see if they had a room
with a door that could be locked from the outside.
Motels not only consider that unfriendly,
but unsafe.

It is not safe to lock oneself away with the
divorcing spouse.
All that ugliness, “I want a garbage can,
how could you possibly not give me a garbage can,
You selfish, greedy bitch.
I want one of the big pillows and some of the plants,
You have more than enoh.’

He says the divorce is my fault.
I was wrong.
Does he get some perverse pleasure in knowing that I hurt?
And yet I know it was all my fault.
I had 100% responsibility for myself and
my relationship with him.

The potential to make love one more time.
The temptation to touch in those familiar ways once again.
An end.
The fear of a beginning.
With all those scars
How could anything grow?
Would we cry? Would :we, fight? Would we come?
Has my body gotten older under the strain?
Would he compare me to his new bed partner?

The last time we made love was after he moved out
of our home.
We went for dinner.
He rented a Cadillac and on the way home
We stopped to kiss.
I thought making love in the front seat of a
Rented Cadillac was an appropriate end to an
unconventional relationship.

He thought it was kinky and told his best friend.
I thought it was sad and desperate.

It was two days ago that we jointly considered this
as a way to settle the divorce ourselves.
Eliminate the cost and trauma of having lawyers
fight it out for us
The phone has remained silent like the previous five
months of separation.
I suspect he has reconsidered the risk.
Surely he has doubts as great as mine.
He is probably more afraid to gamble.

Why lock myself away with a man that once loved me
and now shows deep signs of hatred and pain.
Could we hurt each other more?

Last night, my friend of thirty years called.
Lovey said that I sounded softer.
And that her divorced husband of four years
died during the Christmas holiday.

It is important to cleanse
before it is too late.

Drought Map of the U.S. for May 21, 2013