SHE by Jeff Callaway

SHE
by jeff callaway



she

sat there in the smoky room

where the poets loomed in the gloom

and the coffee brewed

as time seemed to

stand still

I knew that she was real

or that she was like

a wonderful white rose

just waiting to bloom

in Spring

or even right there in front of me

where I noticed how her bones caught

shadows of light

from beneath her skin

that I wanted to be inside

and soon

I longed to touch her

with my long velvet tongue

my hands

calloused and wet

with words

with ink there of

that burned

into the page that was her

with long blonde tresses

and spectacles

all spectacular she

was just like she was

the moon

that I could feel her

pull like I was the ocean

my swoon and my sway

as she sat there silently

scrawling romantic electric words

with her doll like hands

creamy and ceramic

into her black leather notebook

where she kept her poems and things

she seemed just like a cat

with her litters of light

as I took the stage

to read

I watched for her responses

to each

of my bombastic elastic words

that I bombarded

upon her ear lobes

until she became shell shocked

and pulled her kites, her eyes

from the page

to glance up at me

with her eyes

her eyes like lights

that shown up on the stage

where I stood lonely

and longed for her to join me there

but she just smiled