The Woman I Came In To
Take pleasure in chapters from the past;
some are affairs never to be revisit in this residue.
Only tongues look a lot like God; secrets have no echoes.
Therefore, set apart these small portions, the ones telling,
so as light fades, there will be unending memoirs.
The house is still there, standing
amongst those dressed to celebrate the season.
There she stood with her snaking passage
leading to that memorable chamber.
The oak could not hide her with out-stretched arms;
it was the time to molt like a red Hampshire hen.
Who recall those spring mattresses, when there are goings-on,
that sound like birds summoning leaves on naked trees?
Those springs knew that it takes two to tango;
they knew the woman who kept me warm.
She was gone with the wind and brought this on me;
a space-heater that hugs the mould filled wall
dries the natural oil from my cocoa-brown skin.
The adjacent wall; the wall that stop her
roaming with shame into the room
next-door. People were always screaming at us.
She was so warm. Her bosom recalled a Jersey cow.
She tops this freaking space-heater, and she never hums –
Never distasteful; she was never filled.
She rained heavily, and gushed out.
Copyright © Earle Brown | Year Posted 2011
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