Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Attention to Detail / Supernatural / I'm No Green Thumb

Aleathia Drehmer

Attention to Detail

 I step in a puddle
on the bathroom floor,
a wet reminder
of finding him washing
his cock in the sink after sex.

I had opened the door
thinking he had started
the shower and caught him mid rinse.

There was something comforting
about his attention to detail,
to his OCD, that made me
love him more.

He smiled at me
knowing I understood; 
     knowing that is all
each of us ever
need out of life.


I have always been jealous
of people whose craft
materialized from thin air
while mine lay dormant,
waiting for a flutter of experience
to nail it down.

Tonight in a flurry of passion,
books fell to the ground
amidst the grunts and moaning. 

The hunger insatiable. 

The air thicker than silent death
and I forgot about their frivolous rhetoric,
and how all my poems needed a root
from which to grow.

We are all fused together
by sweat
and ether
and chance.

I’m No Green Thumb

 Half in the closet
my body is resected
in the past and present,
watching you sort
the musical history
of your life.

 I will never fully know
you like this.  I will learn
to piece you together
with stories told
in all our waking moments.

 I feel like a gardener
tending to our crops,
fresh new shoots
and turned soil,
with rocks and aphids
always threatening the balance.



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