Writers Make Choices

31 Mar

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Writers Make Choices

 

Why don’t we both sleep on it tonight

almost make it to some sort of daylight

I was working on a book

editing the part when he met her

jealous when you woke up

you looked at me

at my typewriter

yawning, stretching your wonderful limbs

asking whether I wanted to join you in the shower

flawless through your efforts

but there was already too much daydream to go around

so I smoked and made toast for us

instead

while you walked out clean

and asked where I ended up

I told you

that he was in Greenwich Village

wearing dingy sunglasses

when he saw her

off the bus

stopped by his favorite bar

(Trostky’s Mexican Adventure with the happy hour promising half-priced drinks)

he leaned against a railing

and made his life

a glory for fiction stuck inside

fiction

an addiction to love and policy

a polylemma between breathing

him following her, skipping from verso to verso

and my taking you

where mistakes can’t always be corrected

where I can’t always be refined

undressed by red ink

but if you’ll ungently take me to some place ungentle

where it’s snug and warm

and a repetition isn’t needed because nothing ends

then I’ll find a way to cut the rhapsody off the tree

and finally let it sleep

for it’s been dangling like a shaman

for four years next month

growing hostile and vindictive

like a sad lover lost in a length of time

having nary to do with life

and barely anything to do with me

anymore

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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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