You gave me something to chase
You bore our child, from a cottage
With a lane down to the sea
If sex is the physical, thank fuck
That we fucked
Yet it’s still the residual that holds me
Unfolds my weaknesses by the shore
Ever to the open door, deploring
My absent moods, how I did brood
The interlude wasn’t seen, a mean
Head for the silver screen, lay back
& be led; be led, let it be said
You gave me something to chase
Your roar along the promenade
A race with indiscriminate pleas
If lust is the miracle, good luck
That we looked
Yet it’s still the indivisible that holds me
Withholds my meekness evermore
Never to restore, scoring
My reticent grooves; how I moved
The certitude isn’t clean, a dream
Stead for the sepia sheen, stay back
That I may be led; be led, let it be said
A poem written after reading Anne Sexton’s poem The Beast
This is a poem from Vagaries:
Love of The Key to Room 149
