As I Look Back on the Six Months

As I look back on the six months just passed,
I believe I have rarely been so low
And disheartened. Now the shards have at last
Been swept, most traces of you wiped off, so
Out with the trash and the kitty litter.
Anything that remains is contorted
By the lingering venom, still bitter
In my veins, but I am cold-comforted
By the bag of ice you left - all mine all!
But what baggage have you been left holding?
I have Edward and Jane and Thornfield Hall,
You can keep your cruelty and scolding.
But please, for Women's History Month's sake
Don't dishonor it with a goddam snake.

If You Were the Angel

If you were the angel that my crazed mind
Once imagined, you have since been transformed.
No longer innocently sexy, kind,
Sweet and charming, you have counter-reformed.
Bad timing - maybe that's what it was, just.
I needed an idol, and you were there,
Et voila - you were my object of lust,
The virile stallion to my rutting mare.
But saints should not fill us with desire,
Make us want to wallow in naked bliss,
Nor should Gregorian chants inspire
Erotic dreams. I am punished for this.
For my carnal crime against an angel,
You turned demon and I was sent to hell.

Bitterest Bliss

Bitterest bliss and most exquisite pain
The sweet burden of your body's pressure,
I visit the thought again and again
And again I invent my own pleasure.
We are caught up in a moment as brief
As it is momentous and though I'll pay
With more self-recrimination and grief
I cannot help but come again this way.
We stare into each other's eyes and know
Everything changes now, forevermore,
You transfix the delta of venus, oh!
Penetrate to my very being's core.
My legs encircle you, pulling you tight
So grateful if all time would end tonight.

I Am Not the Least Ashamed

I am not the least ashamed I loved you,
Proclaiming it off off the Great White Way -
A homeostatic heart will so do
Though there be all colubrine Hell to pay.
The night you called me "goddess" I knew then
She would have her revenge on me in kind
And I could not predict the how or when -
But who can tell the chill serpentine mind?
It is the nature of a snake to strike
At a warm-blooded creature, but I swore
You were a mammal, we two were alike,
Could you distress a doting primate more?
Still I am proud that I loved you so well
Though poisoned by the Serpent-Queen of Hell.

If Not For You

If not for you, I'd be ignorant still
Of such confounding things on this blue ball
That I had heard of but not believed til
You revealed your true and astounding all:
I never knew such gross ingratitude
Nor such pure and unalloyed self-regard;
Such shameless nauseating attitude;
Evil, in fancy dress, brutal and hard.
How we all laughed at your droll anecdote:
A backstabber, the headmaster called you.
Not quite so funny when held by the throat
And like Julius Caesar, pierced clean through.
I learned the meanings of abominate,
Repulsion, abhorrence, revulsion, hate.

Bitter Cold Silence - Why

Bitter cold silence - why did you persist?
I had no dark secret plan to molest
You! Did not ask to be Valentine-kissed,
Nor demand to be gathered to your chest.
Sacred to me was your personal space
And precious to me was your high regard
And all I asked was to talk face to face
Sweet Baby Jesus, why was that so hard?
Oh but I am so easy to persuade!
It would not be so wicked to love you.
This bitterness could so easily fade,
If you gave a damn, if you wished it to.
You still have power, I'm dead serious,
To render me wacked-out delirious.