.
I once had a lover with magnificent
long hair. he couldn't have sex-
or wouldn't - until I brushed him
. my prize thoroughbred
before and again
afterward. for awhile I believed Delilah
wasn't evil
. just a fool.
.
He loved deviled eggs and would send
me off to wrestle with shell splinters
rage rage against
the dying of the white!
I thought it was clever
he had no knowledge of poetry
no patience for humor. often
.
I thought he could be more suitable -
boiled eggs are so mindless
he was no better to me in bed
than I was to myself
indifferent to the desperate
stars of Van Gogh
. his ignorance
of Beatrice was utterly unattractive
maybe I had more invested
in all three.
.
Some men can not say
what they have lost or question
if it was a forfeit. I understood this
watching him stand in hard rain
his long tresses dripping tears
he would never be able to shed
he's like those damned eggs
hanging on to his shell
just to tell me he'd left his brush.
.