Three by Lyn Lifshin

WHEN I WRITE THE POEM

I was raw. Weeks,
years, I mean I could
taste his skin the
whole country away.
Making anything up,
so dangerous,
the e mails between
us, tongues, no dry
kiss. Did I get there
too late? Was there too
much in both of us
missing? Just that one
brush of skin, margaritas
that turned me light
as any body of water
that could have flowed
around the brown
velvet couch. Back east,
I waited for his name
on Aol, the computer
a minefield. I dreamed
about him in Paris.
Were the poems revenge?
Or pain? Or the black
iris I couldn’t get
out of me? A slap, a
scream, tongue
of rage that now I feel,
especially in the ones
using his name, his
history, I feel so
guilty

#

NOT COLD, BABY NO

but lava. that
strangeness, wanting,
not sure, wanting
the strangeness. Here
mounds of the darkest
grey, the cold,
scars. Your words,
a quilt

#

DREAM OF WORSKHOPS, A THUNDER BIRD THE TOP WOULDN’T GO UP ON, TB, THE CRUSH, BUT MOSTLY SADNESS

I agree to give a workshop
for a month in the arts. Other
years it would have been
a thrill, a festival of film and
poetry but now everything
seems too much which is why,
maybe, I’ve missed my stop
on the metro, over shot it
like too many feelings this
week. When I try to get off
the train, all the stops are
unfamiliar, foreign and some
one whispers it’s a bad area
of town. Everybody has TB—
it dangerous but I have to take
the chance. I have to get back
and when I do, my convertible is
parked oddly on a street I don’t
know. The open top won’t
close right, like teeth on a
stubborn, stuck zipper when
you’re in a hurry and wind is
a blast of ice. I’m trying to force
it shut without breaking anything
but it is impossible to force, like
certain feelings, certain men
who even in fantasies don’t
behave. It’s better to leave who
they are unsaid. Then I find myself
in a group where there is a choice
of water sports. Turns out the
dark haired dancer lives across
the street. It interests me more than
it does. I could make a move.
He comes over put his arm around to
comfort, tells me I am making
big improvements but he knows
that’s not enough and I know
he’d offer himself and he knows
it too and we both know it’s
not a great idea, know it would
never change anything