04-20-2016, 11:43 AM
EXCUSE
Construction along
the highway. Landslide. Stench
of bodies hanging, creek
drowning the Y -- I guess
someone's patience
ran out. The road
didn't end, the log house
becoming the last refuge,
the only place with food,
water, gas -- casino
and the best whores.
Your garden, trees
freshly harvested, buds
unopened -- should've
been a botanist.
Last, your hair.
He said you'd wear
the sun in it, my patience
being your bread and wine,
your patience
being my key. But now I see
only in mysteries,
silver or copper
moon framing your sex,
wrinkles your eye.
You satisfied?
reply to Waiting by Raymond Carver
Construction along
the highway. Landslide. Stench
of bodies hanging, creek
drowning the Y -- I guess
someone's patience
ran out. The road
didn't end, the log house
becoming the last refuge,
the only place with food,
water, gas -- casino
and the best whores.
Your garden, trees
freshly harvested, buds
unopened -- should've
been a botanist.
Last, your hair.
He said you'd wear
the sun in it, my patience
being your bread and wine,
your patience
being my key. But now I see
only in mysteries,
silver or copper
moon framing your sex,
wrinkles your eye.
You satisfied?
reply to Waiting by Raymond Carver