Nothing Further

A Poem by Terryg

I refuse to take comfort
from the sight of her--

I might recover the thriving
I've lost. It's false to assume
I hate all things that surround her.
Nothing is further from the lie
that finds me happily
gutted--pithed and culled like iron from
old blood.
If only one day I could un-feel her
prodding and poking at, as from behind,
a spot I might not like remembered.

I refuse never to take comfort
in the curse of her lips,
the detestable curve of her body,
her horrid embrace.
And, no! I cannot bear her voice
because I might recover the thriving I've lost.

Then, as if the blunt enjoyment of her
presence weren't enough to make a man ill,
she sends to me terrible-pleasant things
by way of her accomplice,
the U.S.postal service
(yes, she has a government
agency on her side) So together,
relentless, they torture me like candy.
I refuse to take it, but what the heck.
It's false to assume that I hate all things
that surround her - I am just a mere man.

And nothing could be further from the lie
that finds me cleaning up myself a bit--
using deodorants a bit more than
normal. It's unnatural-- un-holy.
However, I will admit, it does smell nice.
Still, I will not take comfort in the thought
that I will shine somewhat brighter in moon
light.
I refuse the excitement in sight of her.
There's nothing further from my mind than her.
There's nothing further from the lie here.