I IMAGINE IT’S GOODBYE
by David Spicer
want me to listen,
next to you any dawn,
coffee to your bed, or anything you
present you with my hands of love.
roar and I wouldn’t hear them,
they are. I hope I deserve your duende,
mesmerizes me under the morning moon.
elusive woman who lives in her interior,
cities I’ve never seen.
me when I
ask you to view
worlds only we see,
breath, breathe with me as I
your ear’s whorl,
of the cosmos. Maybe a city
tenements where we met and enjoyed
stereo, my lover I’ve loved forever, ever my
I’ve never platonically penetrated.
this dark century,
me one of
your legendary stories, help me
reason you’re here but gone. I’ll remember you,
name you gave yourself, a name
owned through time. But before you go, let’s visit
shops and I’ll guess what you’re yearning to tell me:
farm close by, where you’ll grow
melons, avocados, where you’ll need only yourself.
David Spicer is a
former medical journal proofreader. He has published poems in Santa
Clara Review, Synaeresis, Chiron Review, Remington
Review, unbroken, Third Wednesday, Yellow
Mama, CircleStreet, The Bookends Review, The
American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, Gargoyle, The
Midnight Boutique, and elsewhere. Nominated for a Best of the
Net three times and a Pushcart once, he is the author of one full-length poetry
collection, Everybody Has a Story (St. Luke's Press) and six
chapbooks, the latest of which is Tribe of Two (Seven CirclePress).
He lives in Memphis. His work can be found on www.DavidSpicer76.com/HOME | Mysite