Monday, April 6, 2015

4.6.15

Today's prompt dealt with writing an aubade--a morning poem, or a poem of lover's parting.  One definition I read called it "a farewell to a sleeping woman from a doorway."  That definition gave me the inspiration to run with for this piece, which turns things around a bit.



Rebound Aubade

Sleep, my not-love—it’s still dark, and
I’m the only bird awake. I don’t sing,
but dress quietly, last night’s
backless red dress limp now, wrinkled,
pantyhose wadded in my hand.  Good-bye—
was it Paul?  Perry? Whatever your name was.
I hope it was as explosively meaningless for you
as it was for me.  You cut a broad-shouldered
swath in an otherwise cold night, stopgap
for something beyond this room,
something out of my reach.
Thanks, at least, for that, for a few hours.
Strappy heels in hand, I pad barefoot
to your front door.  You don’t wake.
You don’t have to call.

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