Best Lost Lovechildren Poems
When you happened, I believed in magic, in faeries,
princely men and love, in good prevailing over evil.
I believed in God, in angels and salvation
but most of all, I believed in magic, in miracles…
Perhaps a prince without a horse,
no gold, no carriage, no kingdom
but I believed in love and was carried away.
I was ready to slay monsters, build castles with bare hands…
loving you felt like magic,
I believed in you and I believed in us.
A simple fare, a country kingdom, our own Tir-na-nOg,
I appreciated everything, the daily battles, the closeness of you,
spare potatoes, children giggling in their sleep…
…it was magic…
Sixteen years, I still believed in you,
still appreciated spare potatoes, children giggling in their sleep,
the close exhaustion at a battles end.
I woke one morning, cold, alone, terrified
in the mêlée of living on love I stopped believing in fairies,
good defeating evil, God and angels…magic and miracles
But I still believed in you…in us…
and you were gone.
He put ten years on her eyes in a single morning.
He didn’t do much to her except walk away.
He never raised a hand and he never raised too damned much money.
But he left her fifty-per cent of his final pay.
She’s holding two jobs and she’s holding her little heart together
The children make their own beds and breakfast, too.
The women’s magazines provide advice—and coupons.
And her Mama and her sister drop by, to see her through.
There’s no hard feelings, they’re the best of friends, still.
He takes the children on Sunday afternoon.
She’s liberated from love, she’s her own person.
And no one sees her cry except the moon.
She’s taking two classes down at the local college,
A book-keeping course and volleyball 101.
She’s twenty-eight, she’s changed her hair, she’s jogging!
And her friends down at work say her life has just begun!
But you know, fifty-per cent of the American dreams get broken.
One-half of the brides and grooms pay lawyer’s fees.
And fifty-per cent of the couples are coming uncoupled.
But the precise percentage of tears nobody sees.
He put ten years on her eyes in a single morning.
He didn’t do much to her except walk away.
He never raised a hand and he never raised too damned much money.
But he left her fifty-per cent of his final pay.
She’s holding two jobs and she’s holding her little heart together
The children make their own beds and breakfast, too.
The women’s magazines provide advice—and coupons.
And her Mama and her sister drop by, to see her through.
There’s no hard feelings, they’re the best of friends, still.
He takes the children on Sunday afternoon.
She’s liberated from love, she’s her own person.
And no one sees her cry except the moon.
She’s taking two classes down at the local college,
A book-keeping course and volleyball 101.
She’s twenty-eight, she’s changed her hair, she’s jogging!
And her friends down at work say her life has just begun!
But you know, fifty-per cent of the American dreams get broken.
One-half of the brides and grooms pay lawyer’s fees.
And fifty-per cent of the couples are coming uncoupled.
But the precise percentage of tears nobody sees.
1981