Robinson's Separated, Not DivorcedKathleen Rooney
He's forced to keep his affairs sort of secret. He's taken to sleeping with a small brunette. Glamour packs a wallop. Eros has a way. You probably should get what you want (& be sufficiently scared about it) is what she said the first time they went to bed together. So does Thanatos. Robinson stares at the side of her face. Wants to declare: Adultery does not come from the Latin a-dolescere. To grow up. To mature. To adult. Robinson's never felt older. There will be fault. There will be guilt. Her camisole's wilted over the back of a chair & all the ice has melted from the whiskey on the table. She says I hope hell is half this fun. Adultery comes from ad-ulterare. To corrupt. Robinson says I already feel fairly far from god's love. She interrupts to suck his cock. Abrupt abrupt. Robinson's being ricockulous. Perhaps it's in silence that the best work is done. He wonders if he will ever remember how it feels to be loved— if it comes back, it comes back, it comes back. If it comes.
Kathleen Rooney Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2019, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|