Broken Record
Once I prayed for a lover who would
treasure me, pleasure me, measure me by
no other standard but my own.
Together on the porch swing,
humming that Simon & Garfunkel tune
(and what a time it was, it was…)
Me, the deer who steered clear
of headlights, and he, my
melancholy golden boy.
Long sweetsweat hours of
erotic coupling, rolling, gripping,
souls afire, blinding, shining oneness.
Picture him as he stays to graze,
then strays to the next aster-speckled
pasture, scent of honey drawing him away.
Betrayal, best rendered in coal black,
ebony spray to cover the mirror and the
rosy glasses though which a love
was seen blooming in pale, fragile hues
of pink and yellow, delicate colors
of columbine swaying in our meadow.
Uproot it all now, fling it into the coals
of after the afterglow. Let lost love
crackle until only powdered ash remains.
Once I prayed for a lover who would
treasure me. Golden was he indeed,
and golden still, shining out of my reach.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Triple prompt: Sunday Scribblings asked for Treasure, while Poetic Bloomings wanted Betrayal. Those two concepts seem like star-crossed lovers at times. Then the Sunday Whirl gave me inspiring words: Swing, Gold, Melancholy, Rosy, Pray, Spray, Powders, Glasses, Erotic, Pale, Fling, Strays, and Cover. Also posted at my poetic meadow, Poets United. Also for dverse Open Mic Night!
Sharp Little Pencil 