‘Exorcism in D Flat’

Because then she did feel she’d been truly undersold,
It just took that out of her to carry on against
The cantankerous predilections constituting her world,                                       The cute kid logic that made a hostage of her sense.

But I must ask you please keep to your wincing winks;                                        Your well-known knowledge of casual chaos. You see,                                              We can consider our selves unfortunate (and not)
To be still distant in these shared rooms

Like drunk tarantulas in our opposing corners                                                Eventually making
Necessarily speechless
Introductions.

After me (he tells himself) I know there ain’t no-one,                                                  But the technicolour continuum of pretty much
The same
unanimous conversations banished                                                                            To an intimate archive never again touched or even                                   Excavated. Let’s admit it is a ridiculous model to be beset
By the blankest screens and the unhelpful eloquence
So that every remaining notion lacks his or her consequence                                And each classic comfort comes to naught
But a Coming
Or a Passing colouring
Both our scrappy and pretentious breakfasts that somehow do                         Aspire to the level of love affairs but in just
The way in which Tolstoy knew them- incomprehensible
And ordinary.

The first time I saw her she told me she would not live down                               Her minor tragedies,
(call it The craft of Losing), because,
She said,

We can’t have any assurance that our little comedies                                           Will always miraculously recompense them.

And I didn’t know what to think.

(March 1, 2015)