The Unlikely Likely One


Loner, loser, lover, leftover, unbetrothed whose proposal lies unanswered, future husband past our tension under the ground now, never will my lips test foul weather to question another, a misfortune of unfortunate circumstances, better not chap their flesh against anticipation’s fragrance, since to my senses your wound is a rose which flowers in winter, fragrant with the breath of tomorrow, cacophony of diaphanous affairs which prosper, your kiss is what whispers, vespers, offers, pleasure to my ears in those hours this neglect feels possible to heal, what matters after all has withered to despair, blare the bluster of that babel, of those static prayers, your ecstatic absence growls as my mind wanders a heathen’s hallowed ground near the brothel brawl of


ribald memories we share, now haul our hollering to the grave, gravity burdens those whose tragedies haunt dead air, silence wants to be acknowledged when no one’s around to care, get up and knock it off now, your world never had what it takes to break me down, would you rather be invincible or invisible, need to be seen to have a legacy, protect your faith for it will be challenged, master not aggression but understanding, happy to have forgotten what cannot be forgiven, finding comfort in the burning away of shadows, resurrecting an experience of living we had been given to giving away for so long, avoiding its ending since this relationship’s beginning, now for once having nothing means something.