Ouroboros
I wake sore and empty
in my absent roommate’s bed
And watch you tug jeans over tired hips,
And run your belt through its loops,
And
lace your boots to face November chill.
Retrieving
a battered bomber jacket from under the bed
You
goodbye me with cursory words
And the
dormroom door snaps shut.
I roll my face back into the warm depths of the pillow and wonder
Why you bother, and if
I want to know why.
You’re walking now
To your car wedged in amongst many like it:
Kept running in spite of
your best efforts,
And soon you’ll roll off into the sunrise-
Just another low whine to mix with the
birds chattering from the trees
And the
pop album wailing down the hall.
I am warmed by the comforter gathered into
an illusion of safety around my toes
And my
hungover eyes shielded from the
blinding dawn by
drawn blinds.
As I
will sleep to wash over my tired mind
I remember something you said last night
About a
marquis and philosopher and what he thought of human
desire.
They locked him up,
You said,
So he couldn’t hurt anyone,
You laughed.
In the dark there are shadows surrounding you,
Neither
Platonic nor
ideal,
Which sweat cannot wash away.
I remember when I met you,
And how the Moon fed my romantic fantasies
And the rough rub of the Earth as you fed your
own.
And my soiled skirt and bruised limbs,
Which later I couldn’t explain away,
Even to myself.