Whirligig 2

Your weight spills over me
like wet cement, contouring,
filling me up like a sink.
I wouldn’t mind losing myself
if you were the benefactor.
–
Your eyes stop me,
as if a mirror and I could get used
to seeing myself
in the pages of your diary.
I peel back my orange blouse
baring my breasts
for you to ravish and embellish,
whatever you please.
–
There are no spoons at this table
only knives and as we sit venting
our respective failings
I can’t help but think that
I’ve outdone you many times over.
To me you are as perfect
as the day we met
and every bit as improbable.
–
How could I be so fortunate
to sink my teeth daily
into your heart, to feel it answer
with a murmur and a welling
of anecdotal tears.
I am not a museum,
I do not display my valuables,
I bury them deep
and let them rot away unattended.
–
You are the brave one, the strong one.
I am crippled with mediocrity,
doomed to polarities and dreams
that sour on consumption.
–
Today the man came to begin work on installing our new furnace! I am not sure when everything will be good to go. Today is also the day I work at the auto shop so I am dirty but I can’t take a shower. I have to go to therapy tomorrow, possibly still dirty. I did “wash” with wet wipes though and I did manage to will myself not to sweat despite also doing my workout. He is working right now and the whole house smells of rotten fish (draining the old furnace) and it is very noisy. This is a good thing but I am uncomfortable and distracted at the moment so I am not really sure about what I have written. I am not sure if I can write tomorrow (that would mean no Saturday post)