The Small Drama ofShort Term Debt

Love poem in the middle of life.

Watermelon woman, touched by dirt,

Drink up the heat as a quiet dream.

I leave you each morning, a thousand

Deaths, as you sleep. Did you wake

In a rush as the buzz or the child

Sounded, or in the calm of seeping

Tea? I drink coffee on a city bus.

The sun pushes the a liquid metal

Measuring temperature and I am cold

from air conditioned, compressed, Condensed

liquefied, and finally evaporated

in a marvel of modern man. You and my

son play in the spray of hose water.

Short distant love pains my weekdays.

How my feet ache from sitting under

A desk too far away from my life. Walk 

now and wait in the wake of a morning 

without without work. The dream

of spitting watermelon seeds, black

and pure presses down on me, and the pull

of paychecks cuts too much time.

Reviews

[Teri B]

How well you convey the tug-of-war between two of the most important things in life - family and career. One can hear the desire to stay, to cuddle, to play, beaten into submission by the need to work to make the times when you CAN cuddle and stay and play happen. I like it!

[Siena - Silent Awakenin..]

The way you have chosen to portray this battle between love and work, makes me feel fairly Idillic... Its amazing how a poem can make you feel.
My favorite part of this I would have to say, would be:
"Short distant love pains my weekdays.
How my feet ache from sitting under a desk too far away from my life.'
Thank you for sharing. :)