Thursday, October 5, 2017

Conversations with Him

'Conversations with Him" mixed media by Cristina Querrer

It goes like this: 
It goes everywhere and nowhere
repackaged, repeated, returned

It's a drunken sailor
and the family he deserted
for the sea

It's the midlife crisis fun
as he puts it in which
I could take or leave

But I had to sit in the corner
and wait courteously
daintily like Whistler's mother

Whilst he returns to me
It is a lady-like thing to do
to sit here with my hands 
on my lap

Or make sure I'm back in place
when he's ready to come back
even if I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro
in the meanwhile

How immature of me to whine
to whimper lest I deserve
another mental whipping

Or else he will sell his boat
and move to the next island
and not come back 
to the mainland to me

Transmission stops at his command
reminding me of the helm
I could never control
admonishing me always

So I become unsightly poems instead
to remember these days
I've become stranded
stringing and dragging
his uneven words along