blog of poet, leah umansky

A Deep Fantasy

Learn not to notice this. As soon as you becomes  we – there is the “run around.”  The wish remains less romantic then, or more so. The fantasy; the relish[ing]

 – I am not into condiments–

the slavish nature of the thrill.  I could just plunge into it: 

                                                                               STAB STAB STAB,                   

I reach for the mental; I capitulate; I fully dress and:

                                                           Voila!

You are served.          

                                                            Never, entirely useless.

[Never, fully-supported, either.] Just saddle-bagged and saddled.   

                         I might find a way;     find myself away                                             find my

self.

A one-on-one kind of thing.                            Engaged; monopolized; patched and stitched. I can figure it out. Sound it out.

So when he’s like  _____________________!;                                           

  I’ll rise up singing.

::watch::

© 2011