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Archive for July, 2011

Marriage

Posted in poems on July 28, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Marriage

The house becomes a non-house. The house becomes nonsense. The driveway, an open door. The street,  agape. The stoop, a hole. You could say, rabbit-hole, but I prefer manhole.

 

© Umansky 2011

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The No – Complaint Department

Posted in poems, Uncategorized on July 12, 2011| Leave a Comment »

The No – Complaint Department

 

[1]

 

I don’t want to reopen this, but

I don’t want to conceal the adoration either.

I don’t not want to reopen it, either.  

 

I don’t want to hear how if this then that; or  it’s not like I’ll  never stop thinking of this or I’ll       always think of  that.

 

I don’t want any of any of that – lose it!

 

I want activity.

I want loveliness.

I want selflessness.

I want material.

I want that marriage welded through – soldered.

 

I don’t want the baloney – it’s hard enough facing the truth.

&  I don’t want complaints.

 

 

 

 

[2]

 

I’m putting up a sign: 

 

 

 

The No-Complaint Department

Hours:

Weekdays: Take a number

Weekends: Take a walk

 

 

 

 

 

 

[3]

 

The saturation would supply the evidence.  At one time or another, there was so much to love.  So much in color and hue.  It could’ve been prostituted in its vivacity, but that’s neither here nor                                                                                                                                         there.

                                                There are always tasks:

                                                1. Close the safety deposit account

                                                2. Buy a proper mop

                                                3. Send a thank you card

                                                4. Stop spending

 

Inventing a backdrop to such chores would be a fantasy.                 [One, I would gladly live in.] 


Can it have:  flowers; pastels; sprayed roses, wood paneling, a claw footed bathtub, and  refurbished upholsteries?

                                                                                    If only this could be reupholstered —                                                                                                                                     [there’s an idea]

 

[4]

 

Favoring words, a natural tendency, I can remember           each    little     one      you      said.

                                                                                      — a list of dualisms.

*

According to a big library in downtown Manhattan, some think that blondes are not reliable, but au contraire monsieur, we are the most reliable.  We gravitate to what we love, to what we desire, to he or she who wants and desires  and of course, to what we love about ourselves (and about you!)

I don’t want to cross the past off; I just want to navigate through it.  Us women already have it hard enough.

 

© Umansky 2011

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