Weeping Woman
Time Leaves No One Behind — A Poem
A Lover Nor A Friend Feigin — I’m Open and I Complain
Time Leaves No One Behind,
Not you or them —
Comes to remain and part you,
In shade and compliment
I halt the parts that I become of you.
Tempered akin
As a Gusty July’s Day —
Her sexlessness completed
The openness of her grasping thighs —
Tight to she
When I can remember her best —
The shakey rule of her strawberry blond
Remarks to me:
A Love gone gravely ill — so starkly by —
The impassioned winds of hungering heat —
Pounded upon her lover’s naked chest;
I could remember her to go; don’t I?
Lovers’ battlefields, slouching on —
’Tis the war — now repeating in silence,
As ’twas some war in the virgins suite
Thankfully disappearing —
Ailing all beyond;
Awaiting you someday—perhaps sooner than most.
My expectations were tickled by remote
Variations of dress and thread —
Time Leaves No One Behind.
Nary a mouse nor a spectator to boot and clad you
In an officiate cloak.
A lover ill-begone — I’m feigning the hurt.
The suture botheration plays me as the hack that I am —
Time hasn’t quite, left me behind as I would like.
Time Leaves No One Behind.
Time Leaves No One Behind.
As naked as the branch which upsets
The lingering arm, to knock upon
The naked chest twice —
There was one once; she’ll refuse to help.
Time Leaves No One Behind.
The seated lady only comes to Thomas now —
No longer parting me, not in this life nor
In some high heaven that casts me forlorn
To redoubtable downs.
’Tis no pity — for that was my War,
And it is Done.
Over, and cast me out
To the seating pattern of bedroomed
Thoughts and empty closets —
’Tis done and I will so be gone to it;
What to do? — What to do, as
it was undecidedly was done
Time Leaves No One Behind —
’Tis done now.
’tis so…
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