a poetry e-zine

 

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Kirby Light

A poem about regret, but really a love poem in disguise

 

I feel it sometimes,

at night,

late maybe when I’m having a cigarette,

that creeping dread

like something unseen skulking behind me

as I walk under street lamps in the dark,

alone.

I think of you,

and all those black deeds

that made me a person I didn’t wish to be.

It’s made me come to understand the darkness Marlowe spoke of.

It’s made me come to understand the shadows in your eyes when you look past me.

But the feeling fades,

drifts away like ash on hot night wind,

disintegrating in the rising temperature.

And as the days get longer

I feel summer coming,

the dread comes less and less,

because I know

that there will be different women,

with different hair

and clothes

and shapes,

smells.

They’ll have different ways of kissing and of crying.

And if I’m lucky,

or unlucky,

I’ll get to know both.

But to let you know,

I think of you

and all those things

and all I’ve really come to learn

is that the eyes of a new woman

are the only mirrors I can bare.

 

 

blue

To and from

You never learned how to drive.

So much time was spent in my car

Fights

Fits of tears

And sex

Coming home after a late movie

Too tired to talk

Just you leaning against me

While the radio played.

Do you remember

That Halloween

When you wore the bad blonde wig

And those girls in the car next to us

Laughed as you leaned in to kiss me.

Or the times when we

Fell asleep on top of each other in the front seat

And

You sitting on the hood of my car with

your hands

On my face.

Saying

I finally found you

Such memories hang from my heart

like icicles on the eaves of an old house

in the middle of winter.

Where does it go

If only

one last car ride

Before our poem ended.

 

 

 

It’s simple

I was asked

why I write about women so much

and I considered this question.

The answer I came up with

was simply

that if I were a sailor

I would write about the ocean.

If I were a junkie

I would write about heroin.

But I’m neither of these things,

so I write about women.

 

Kirby Light worked a year and a half on the art and literary magazine Phoenix, and has been published in it three times. Kirby has been published in Down in the Dirt magazine and recently had two poems accepted by the poetry magazine Advocate. Kirby lives just outside Portland, Oregon.

Copyright 2012  Chantarelle's Notebook