AFTER READING OLD UNREQUITED LOVE POEMS - Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz

If I didn’t think it’d make me appear crazy still,

I’d apologize to you for having been so crazy then.

Reading the poems I had written about “us”

resurrected all that nervous heat, reminded me

of the insistent stutter of my longing,

how I could never just lay it out there for you.

The answer, clearly, would have been

no, thank you. But perhaps that tough line

would have been enough to salvage

all that was good and woolly about us:

your laugh, the golden ring I’d always

stretch a story for; the pair of mittens

we’d split in the cold so we’d each have

a hand to gesture with; how even now,

the paths we took are filled with starry wonder

and all that bright limitless air. I’m sorry

I could never see myself out

of the twitching fever of my heartache,

that I traded everything we had for

something that never ended up being.

But if I could take anything back, it wouldn’t be

the glittering hope I stuck in the amber of your eyes,

or the sweet eager of our conversations.

No, it would be that last stony path

to nothing, when we both gave up without

telling the other. How silence arrived

like a returned valentine on that morning

we finally taught our phones not to ring.

MIDNIGHT - Louise Glück

Speak to me, aching heart: what

ridiculous errand are you inventing for yourself

weeping in the dark garage

with your sack of garbage: it is not your job

to take out the garbage, it is your job

to empty the dishwasher. You are showing off again,

exactly as you did in childhood—where

is your sporting side, your famous

ironic detachment? A little moonlight hits

the broken window, a little summer moonlight, tender

murmurs from the earth with its ready sweetnesses—

is this the way you communicate

with your husband, not answering

when he calls, or is this the way the heart

behaves when it grieves: it wants to be

alone with the garbage? If I were you,

I’d think ahead. After fifteen years,

his voice could be getting tired; some night

if you don’t answer, someone else will answer.

Confession - Samantha King

I hate you wouldn’t quite do it

I forgive you isn’t quite my speed

I regret meeting you would be a lie

The best thing for me

was removing you from my life

That, I am sure of

First Love - Wisława Szymborska (Translation By Clare Cavanagh & Stanislaw Baranczak)

They say

the first love's most important.

That's very romantic,

but not my experience.

 

Something was and wasn't there between us,

something went on and went away.

 

My hands never tremble

when I stumble on silly keepsakes

and a sheaf of letters tied with string

— not even ribbon.

 

Our only meeting after years:

two chairs chatting

at a chilly table.

 

Other loves

still breathe deep inside me.

This one's too short of breath even to sigh.

 

Yet just exactly as it is,

it does what the others still can't manage:

unremembered,

not even seen in dreams,

it introduces me to death.

Traveling - Stephen Dunn

If you travel alone, hitchhiking,

sleeping in woods,

make a cathedral of the moonlight

that reaches you, and lie down in it.

Shake a box of nails

at the night sounds

for there is comfort in your own noise.

And say out loud:

somebody at sunrise be distraught

for love of me,

somebody at sunset call my name.

There will soon be company.

But if the moon clouds over

you have to live with disapproval.

You are a traveler,

you know the open, hostile smiles

of those stuck in their lives.

Make a fire.

If the Devil sits down, offer companionship,

tell her you’ve always admired

her magnificent, false moves.

Then recite the list

of what you’ve learned to do without.

It is stronger than prayer.

Untitled - Unknown

When you finally forget her,

she’s standing in the kitchen.

She thinks it’s something in the water, and it is.

Her hands stop moving,

coming to a standstill in those rubber gloves

she seems to wear like armor.

And she looks out the window.

And she takes a breath, turns off the water

and goes to sleep.

And in the morning,

she wakes up

and makes you breakfast without a word.

Even when you break the plate.

Because you don’t remember the last time you were sober

and the lines between desperate and despise

start to blur come sunrise,

so you’re never awake to see it.

And it’s her fault, really.

After all these years she still can’t cook the eggs right,

still can’t shut up the baby.

Still can’t cover up bruises quite right

so it’s her fault when the questions come, really.

What were you supposed to do.

For her, it was a quiet affair,

she washed the dishes and made you dinner and

poured whiskey till her hands shook.

And she let you slip away.

Put the baby to bed and just let you slip away.

You’ll never forgive her for that.

But what about the kids.

They all say it, they all knew before either of you did.

But what about the kids, and all the time,

what about all that time,

and wouldn’t it just be better to stick it out.

Just hold on.

Just til Christmas and then we think about the broken glass

and the doors that don’t lock. Just wait til Christmas.

And what was she supposed to do.

Let the devil keep writing messages in the mirror?

Let the kids find out?

Let her traitorous hands burn the place down?

So she just pours you a whiskey.

And she waits til Christmas.

And the kids don’t find out.

And the house stays unburnt.

And she wears her rubber gloves like armor.

Like maybe you can’t touch her

if she’s washing the dishes.

And eventually you forget her.

She takes a breath.

And puts the baby to sleep.

And she lets you.

The Wish - Louise Glück

Remember that time you made the wish?

           I make a lot of wishes.

The time I lied to you

about the butterfly. I always wondered

what you wished for.

           What do you think I wished?

I don’t know. That I’d come back,

that we’d somehow be together in the end.

           I wished for what I always wish for.

           I wished for another poem.

MELANCHOLIA - Michael Faudet

I am alone,

love passes by,

 

crying tears,

I wonder why—

 

I cannot find

what others found.

A BIRD IN THE HAND: TWO SOLOS - Richard Shelton

Wife:               there was nothing wrong with our dreams

                        they fit us like scales on a fish

                        our dreams of patience and goodness

                        were not beyond our abilities

                        and our dreams of sex were harmless

                        there was nothing

                        wrong with our dreams except

                        they were the wrong dreams for us

                        now we see we had little choice

                        and once we had chosen each other

                        even that was taken away

Husband:         when I reached out with my right hand

                        and touched you

                        I knew everything had been planned

                        even what I am saying now

                        had been prepared

                        for me to say

           

                        and if I had reached out

                        with my left hand

                        at a different time on a different day

                        you would have been there

                        and everything would be the same

Wife:               coming of age

                        I found myself in the desert

                        following the wrong leader

                        but how could I have abandoned you

                        when I knew you would perish without me

                        so I said let it ride

                        and I rode with it

                        through a godforsaken land without trees

                        or flowers or anything beautiful

                        while the wind played my ribs like a harp

                        I don’t enjoy being laughed at

                        but I have learned

                        to practice a certain amount of madness

                        most difficult of the arts

                        and the least rewarding

Husband:         before we realized what they were

                        they were over 

                        those days when we lived

                        in furnished rooms and could laugh

                        at their ugliness

                        later

                        well on our way

                        and established in our own shambles

                        drinking good wines and eating good salads

                        we gave up bread and butter

                        and those private days those brief

                        beautiful days

                        gladly

                        as if we had a choice

Wife:               I keep busy all day

                        but when the sun goes down

                        I seem to go with it

                        once I walked out the door and entered night

                        because it was there

                        and because it promised everything

                        but what because of the promises

                        we didn’t live up to

                        only the young are aware of life

                        burning at their shoulders

                        only they know his touch

                        later it is all speculation

                        and empty phone booths

                        waiting for violent acts of love

                        I keep telling myself I will

                        feel better tomorrow

                        but I don’t believe it

                        there is always tomorrow night

Husband:         I saw you sleeping

                        knees bent to the right a little apart

                        head turned to the left

                        right arm at your side and left arm

                        above your head with your hand

                        caught in the wildness of your hair

                        until I saw you like that

                        I never understood why

                        there were so many paintings of nudes

Wife:               we are separate people

                        each what he fears most each his own

                        trap his own bait his own victim

                        I am not responsible for your life

                        and you are not responsible for mine

                        I wanted to get married

                        and you thought that meant I loved you

                        now you are going deaf and I pity you

                        how hard it must be for a man

                        who has been blind all these years

Husband:         there are others

                        who had all the advantages I had

                        and kept them

                        but deafness grows

                        on my family tree like a vine

                        choosing one limb and avoiding another

                        now that my ears

                        have started to go blind

                        I find myself among the chosen

                        and someday I will hear the true sound

                        of darkness

                        I have learned to expose my eyes

                        to the lips of strangers

                        and understand what they cannot say

                        living as I do

                        with my secrets unheard

                        and listening always with my eyes

                        how can I blame you

                        if you turn your face away

Wife:               all afternoon

                        your shadow your only child

                        grew taller

                       

                        now he is leaving and you will be alone

                        in the darkness that has been

                        and the darkness that is coming

                        the same darkness

                        bright moons in the blood move on

                        as water moves in the bed of a river

                        sleeping at night and waking

                        somewhere else

                        once I turned quickly and saw you

                        looking only at me

                        even if I could explain I wouldn’t

                        even if I could explain to you

                        I would oh I would

                        how any love story is a sad story

                        and we kiss ourselves goodby

                        each time we kiss each other

Husband:         those who have no children

                        become the children they were

                        and those who have several children

                        extend themselves like fingers

                        stretching into deep grass

                        but we have only one child

                        and both of us must crowd into his body

                        elbowing each other for space

Wife:               I remember

                        when this photograph was taken

                        the aperture opened on my life

                        as it was as it appeared to be

                        with the eyes of a deer on the wall

                        and a tongue which could tell

                        the truth

                        but the other was easier

                        my life created for me

                        and I like a fool accepted it

                        with its hand over its mouth

                        to hide the bleeding

                        waiting on the steps

                        of the front porch for years saying

                        you are young you will find somebody

                        my life with a life of its own

                        daring me to leave it

                        saying I am all I have it isn’t enough

Husband:         waiting is hardest but we have to wait

                        for the good things to come to us

                        I always have this next thing to do

                        while I am waiting

                        something important that needs to be done

                        a dog to be fed a plant to be watered

                       

                        I had two friends

                        one is gone the other is dead

                        now our son is grown up and no longer

                        needs me and you say I am the cause

                        of all your unhappiness

                        these things are true

                        but there is always this next

                        thing to do something important

                        that needs to be done while I am waiting

Wife:               ambition

                        worm in my bowels

                        the more I starve you the more you grow

                        others have killed their thousands

                        but you have killed your tens of thousands

                        I tell you

                        the stars can see only into the past

                        they do not know what I am doing

                        and do not care and the moon

                        which knows everything

                        cares even less

                        but you answer me with the story

                        about water always running away from home

                        and returning purified

Husband:         years ago I took this woman

                        you took this man

                        and we kept each other

                        but each of us still wants to be a victim

                        as if love were an accident

                        caused by carelessness

                        and we could hold one another responsible

                        in order to get what we need from each other

                        what have we traded except parts of our lives

                        huge parts of our lives

                        and what have we gained

                        except huge parts of each other’s lives

                        love always gives

                        more than we bargain for

Wife:               I heard a bird cry a name

                        and when I looked I found you

                        in the trap of my hand

                        crying a name I could not understand

                        your own or the name of someone you lost

                        it was never mine

                        I tried to find someone to love me

                        before it was too late

                        but there was no one

Husband:         I heard a bird call my name

                        but when I found the bird

                        it was you

                        caught in the trap of my hand

                        and what I heard was your pain

                        it has always been

                       

                        I tried to find a place

                        where I could not hear that sound

                        but there was no place

Wife:               I heard a bird cry a name

Husband:                     I heard a bird call my name

                        and when I looked

                                    it was you

                        in the trap of my hand

                                    what I heard was your pain

                        crying a name I could not understand

                                    it has always been

                        your own or the name of someone you lost

                                    it was never mine

                        I tried to find

                                    a place

                        someone to love me

                                    but there is no other place

                        there is no other one