Spring Helps
       

Spring helps. The theme of back to life
still appears to have a little pull.
Despite me? Well. almost. Distraction
helps, too—such close kin

to forgetting that it seems equally
a betrayal. Exhibit A—
dinner, a walk, a tum in bed
with some new guy. I said

over biscotti, fall was hard.
He heard, I think. He didn 't ask.
And were you, perched on the maître-d'
stand or slouched by a tree

on the walk, dismayed to see me flirt?
Way led to way, to pillow talk,
and I tried to talk about you then:
It broke my— But men

are prone to passing out—mid-word.
Were you, hovering between us
on the bed , attentive for your name?
If so, you heard him

snore too soon, and me tiptoe down
to the den. I watched Star Trek; l guess
you stayed behind in case he woke,
to rattle chains or creak

floorboards. But no such luck. Next day
he split early, our new friend, leaving
us alone again, ten months on—
with, at least, some sun.

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Copyright © 2017 Benjamin S. Grossberg All rights reserved
from An Elegy
Jacar Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission