Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Just checking

Every now and again I check to see if there is any life on the farm.


BLUE OXEN

When I called her Babe, I thought
blue oxen. Our assumptions
never meshed. When grandchildren
called her Nana, I thought nut bread,
not goddess of sex and war.
My desires were a secret.
Camelotizing her past
and future, she hoped to marry
a knight who slayed memory.
It Ain’t Me Babe played quietly
in my head. Chivalry was dead
and loneliness more dreadful
than betraying any dream.
We were doomed from the moment
we said, “I do” on Folly Beach.
She needed my name to cash
her paycheck. I needed
a designated driver.
For twenty years I tinkered
with a lie until there was
nothing left to fix.
“I’m sorry” is another lie,
when “I was wrong” is the truth.