Manhattan Cowboy III
Ten years ago, my cowboy rode home.
I imagined the sunset and the horse
through the skyscrapers
as the minister gave
a falsely sympathetic eulogy.
The years of bliss had not been tarnished
by the ignorance of others.
Our passion was wild and it sustained us
through every good time and every crisis.
We believed in one another
and on days when I was depressed
over my mother’s death or my failing health,
he’d pick up a bouquet
of the most beautiful red daisies
and we’d spend the evening holding each other,
his masculine force set aside
for the more important task of comforting.
And even in later years —
with his medical nightmares
that sent him from hospital to hospital
with no answers, it was always him
who carried me. The delivered one —
sent to me from the Lord.
My guardian cowboy.
Now it’s my turn to cross over —
to see the other side.
To go to the city beyond death,
where the cowboys stay young,
and the passion is intense,
and where there is only love,
and my sweet will be waiting for me to be called home.
Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling
Calling for you and for me
See on the portals he’s waiting and watching
Watching for you and for me.
As the world fades —
anticipation takes over.
I am desperate to be
reunited with my love.
Manhattan Cowboy II
The lanky man stands in the doorway —
a cigarette hanging loosely and deliberately
from his pouty lips.
I call his name from behind,
longing for him to be too close to me.
His cigarette flies out to the sidewalk
and I can feel my stomach clench,
knowing he is turning toward me.
Closing in on me, his right hand grabs my arm —
gently; his left arm pulls me forward,
his whole hand spread out on the small of my back.
Our lips touch — mine moistening his —
as we try in a futile attempt to get even closer.
My hands become alive — finding his back.
I cup his head in my palm, my fingers
deeply sunken into his thick hair.
I pull and the passion becomes more intense —
everything is wet and beautiful.
We release and he kisses me softly on the cheek.
He drags his hand across my chest as he passes
me and reclines on the sofa — seductively.
I find a home on the facing chair, content to watch
the angel sleep. Soon, I too am asleep.
it is well
it is well with my soul.
For hours we sleep, finding ourselves eventually
huddled together on the sofa or floor,
locked in a tangle of arms and legs.
We’ll grow old, cherishing these afternoons.
The Lord has delivered.
Gold Bugs Pt II
The search has continued
and I have come to realize the
lack of significance in so
many things. That valued token,
the small French bauble that must
have reminded you of me —
it is now with me, as you have
more important matters at hand.
And I have found a perfect home
for it, among my own charms that
make me smile. What now? Shall I continue
the search? When I see you again,
will you be anticipating another;
and will it disappoint you if
I haven’t had the strength to go on?
You weren’t warm and you didn’t smile
on that final mortal day. They
had forgotten to adorn you with the shells
from your backyard’s fence. The discarded
cases of the aging insects.
I imagined them there in your hair
sprayed gold and violet against the
gray beautiful mass of hair, enhancing you
and I smiled, as I do when I see your golden cicada.
I can feel the morning. The richness of new sun on glass skyscrapers and parks and children on their way to school. My coffee is company enough to enjoy the silence, the peace, broken for moments at a time as one person or another fumbles with keys and papers and children down the stairs. I am so lonely here.
Will this winter chill lift from my heart and allow me to find love? In the ice covered and mad city I can’t see anyone worth knowing, worth loving. I need my knight. This curse is too much.
New Year’s Eve
I cried out last night
(deep in my mind).
From safe guarded places
in my soul, I cried.
The feelings I wouldn’t let
show, and couldn’t,
crept out and I began to burn
with a passionate fire
so intense it made my eyes
water and my knees buckle
under the now awesome weight
of my body.
The boy in black leather,
strangely manly and heterosexual
spoke with an echoing beauty
that deafened me into bliss.
And the feelings of warm want
persisted until I almost gave in
and a soft sigh found its way
between my lips…
Suddenly I realized all I thought
I never wanted to know.
I felt free for the first time
and I knew I would never be
the same again. Lust surged
and life as I had always known
it was over. Contented, I cried.