Monday, July 6, 2009

Enduring Girth

(published in The Main Street Journal, Spring 09)


It's a cumbersome love and I do not know where to put it.


I found it on my doorstep one gusty day at

The beginning of fall.

Someone must have rung the bell and run away.

Hit and run,

I understand now

Why that's considered a criminal offense.

The wind chilled my skin like a martini

Should be served and the light was crisp. My hands

Were a little stiff because of my congealed blood,

Running in clots.

Sandpaper wrapped my knuckles as I tried to pick up

My new unwieldy love. Slippery.

Sharp corners and brittle signs.

I surrounded it with both arms as if hugging a box. As if

Lifting a keg of love.


Enduring girth.


My back bent as I pretended to be a vise and I prepared

To pull.

A coterie of leaves were the only witnesses of my effort.

Nothing moved.

I first thought I could leave it there; let it be

A new addition to

My porch

Decoration.


True,

It got in my way.

Grocery bags, cat hair and a wild

List of knickknack junk

Kept being kept in its mucky web. Rain and autumn

Had done their scurrilous job and

My love

Looked forgotten, in its quiescent wait.

A remnant of my failure to

Bring it indoors.


Its wrapping started tearing away but I did

Nothing about it.

I tried to frighten it away. It simply wouldn't move.

My stagnant love.

I thought of selling the house but

Who would want such cumbersome

Devotion?

Deciduous fall passed and the deceiving keg stayed.

What willpower, may I say!


Piecemeal, I began to accept it. Good

Morning and have a nice day when leaving the house,

Welcome back at my return.

Yes, sometimes my coat would get caught by one of its

Sharp corners.

Yet, I didn't mind anymore.

A brackish kiss in the mornings,

An awkward hug at night.

A cup of coffee sitting on my porch,

Protecting my love from the cold. Like a spawning hen.

A cigarette, reading a book.


I started missing it when I went to work and I

Would rush back home

To tether it in hasty caresses and kind words.

Tight against its girth I would imagine a heart beat.


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