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Amy Vale Poem
When the radio played
And you thought you could win me
with a handwritten note declaring your pain
in my absence and with hubris
of your youth, you told me of the softness of my mouth, you knew it,
to be gained by forceful lips, again, of youth
that lived on beyond its time
Because your daddy slept on the couch and your momma
never asked for anything and you never knew
there were things a woman could want
So you pushed for me, and stood in the yard
as summer’s light dimmed evening after evening
And I believed that summer would never end,
that desire would never end
I knew a woman should want, my daddy
brought home sweet peonies that grew beside the dairy barn
and leaned down to kiss my momma at the kitchen table
and touched the top of my head
But your face, flinty, shadowed, was like a dare
for something in the end that would pierce me
with a dangerous pleasure and so I prepared.
When I was ready for you
you had found her, the one whose daddy
had left home altogether.
Copyright © Amy Vale | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
Amy Vale Poem
Take the whiskey neat,
Look past the barman, there’s the mirror
Practiced, laughing eyes
An easy mouth, now sip, then turn
Sip and nod
Slip your hand from under his
to shift your drink
He leans, breath on your cheek
Gin, hot across sparkling, bared teeth
Now his hand on your hip
You probably heard the rumors
He pulls, you stumble, step back
You probably thought, exaggeration
He’s a success
“Easy, girl,” he says,
his eyes no longer the blue you once thought.
8/11/2017
Copyright © Amy Vale | Year Posted 2017
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Amy Vale Poem
brown carpet of leaves
death scattered, to be absorbed
feeding leaves of green
Copyright © Amy Vale | Year Posted 2018
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Amy Vale Poem
Dark at last
A stunning revelation
That life is never sweet
enough to take you back to those times
With eyes closed, a cooing penetrates
Imagined comfort of a nest
Until a startle, sharp as night
Feathers scatter, wings tremble
Bend against a wind that carries you, but
never back to where you were safe
Because there never was a safe place
Can you hear that heart resting
Taking cover where peace can be counted on
The martin, its babies
dashed on the pavement
moves still, bringing insects by instinct
when the nest is empty
never knowing it’s not enough
to bring them back from the ground.
Copyright © Amy Vale | Year Posted 2017
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